


Mysterious Ways

by Lazulia



Series: Mysterious Saga [1]
Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: A bit of violence in later chapters, Birth, From the author formerly known as Delphicoracle-Cat, M/M, Mpreg, Sexytimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2019-12-26 01:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 82,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18272945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazulia/pseuds/Lazulia
Summary: The Jellicle moon can have a strange effect on some cats. After a tryst at the Jellicle Ball, Mistoffelees and Tugger become mates, leading to some unexpected consequences and attracting Macavity's attention.





	1. Dramatical Cats

**Author's Note:**

> This is an epic of a fic, started and completed in 2011 and I sit here trying not to cringe over words written over eight years ago. Gulp. The whole thing is done and posted on FF.net, so feel free to check it out. Or, if you'd rather build suspense, wait for updates here. Expect a "new" chapter every 1-2 days. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Individual chapters will be tagged for content as necessary**

Munkustrap always loved this time; in the few days preceding the Jellicle Ball, a sort of thrumming energy always fell on the junkyard, plunging it into rare quiet.

Gone were the kits' playful shrieks, the toms and queens' discussions and arguments and gossip. All were busy with preparations—warming up voices, preparing for dances and performances—and all were suffused with the traditional, restless liveliness brought on by the occasion and the looming appearance of the Jellicle Moon.

There was something about this time that left Munkustrap with a sense of peace, despite the ever-present stress of the festivities and responsibilities involved. The moon had risen high in the sky a few hours ago, bathing the junkyard in a cool blue light. Not hardly as bright as the proper Jellicle Moon would be in a few days, but enough for Munkustrap's eyes to easily adapt to the twilight as he calmly paced about, stopping here and there to greet a fellow Jellicle or to watch a group busy with their activities. He had left Alonzo on watch that night specifically to have this rare free time to watch over the tribe.

Leaping up on top and then behind an old, discarded refrigerator, Munkustrap smiled and nodded at the sight of the three older queens sitting behind the makeshift den. Jennyanydots sat with a young kitten curled up on her lap; besides her were Jellylorum and Jezebel, each gently stroking the heads of the young kits wrapped around their feet, happily listening as Jenny told them a story.

Jenny paused for a moment to cheerfully wave at Munkustrap, careful not to disturb the half-dozing kittens. She had kindly volunteered this year to care for the kits who were still too young to attend the Jellicle Ball, an ever-shifting yearly responsibility. It would mean she could not attend this year, but Munkustrap vowed that she would have a splendid time next year to make up for her duties.

Continuing his walk, Munkustrap passed a small group of toms whose attempts at a dance practice had devolved into a tussling session. It was only after the silver tabby had passed the group that he became aware of the tread of none-too-subtle paws on the ground, followed by a familiar scent.

"Strange," said Munkustrap, swiveling his head towards the new arrival. "It looks like the Rum Tum Tugger, and it smells like him, and yet it doesn't sound like him, since my ears aren't ringing. Whatever happened to your cheerful fan club?"

Tugger, strutting alone, was an unusual sight. Without his seemingly ever-present cohort of squealing queens, the Maine coon looked almost bare, as though someone had shaved off his prized fur.

"The ladies need to practice for the ball," Tugger said, shrugging elegantly as he settled besides Munkustrap. "Besides, couldn't it be that I want to talk to my brother in peace?"

"It could be," Munkustrap agreed. "But it rarely is, unless I happen to have something you want. And whatever it is, the answer is no."

"Presumptuous, aren't we? You don't even know what I'm here to ask."

"Then ask."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Tugger said, gaze drifting down to casually inspect the end of one perfectly-pointed claw. "But you are planning to tell the story of the Pekes and the Pollicles at the Ball this year?"

"You know I am. We're already preparing for it."

"In that case, I would like to offer you the honor-"

It was all Munkustrap could do to keep his tail from lashing. "No."

"… Of having the Rum Tum Tugger himself-"

"Still no."

Tugger gave a disdainful sniff. "Does that mean you've already chosen the Jellicle who will perform as the great Rumpus Cat?"

"Not yet," Munkustrap admitted. "I was thinking of asking Admetus to perform this year."

"Admetus!" Tugger huffed. "But he has no flair. No charm! Munk, though I can't understand why you insist on putting on this story at every Jellicle Ball…"

"It's Old Deuteronomy's favorite," Munkustrap said. "It's a tradition."

"… I would give up nine lifetimes' worth of fish paste to see it done correctly. Only once. You do recall last year's performance."

Munkustrap couldn't hide a grimace. Indeed he did remember; in a fit of madness, he had asked Skimbleshanks to play the Rumpus Cat. The railway cat's annoying sense of accuracy had caused him to slink into view much earlier than his cue to debate with Munkustrap about whether it had actually been a Peke or a Pom who had started the ruckus. The assembled Jellicles, waiting for their part, had fallen asleep by the time the argument had been resolved. Old Deuteronomy had been greatly amused by the faux pas. Munkustrap had most certainly not.

"And do you remember the year before?"

"Tugger…" Munkustrap shook his head and gave his brother a warning glare. Though he doubted he could shake the insistent tom so easily, he leapt up onto the top of a row of rusted, hollowed-out cars, following the natural bridge created by the old metal heap.

"We never figured out how Gus managed to set fire to his Rumpus Cat costume, but I'm fairly certain that wasn't part of the story. It did make for a spectacular finale. It only took a few weeks for the fur to grow back on your tail, didn't it?"

Never had Munkustrap wished more strongly to run into one of Tugger's amorous and shrill admirers, if only for the distraction. He gladly would have sacrificed his hearing for the sake of his sanity at the moment.

Tugger stayed annoyingly close as Munkustrap continued to follow the irregular path of rusted metal, to a distant corner of the junkyard. It was one of the many secluded spots in their habitat where the cats liked to retreat for privacy.

Munkustrap stopped before being spotted by the two Jellicles there; Tugger followed his lead, complacent for once, noiselessly sitting atop the metal roof.

Not quite out of earshot of the two toms, Demeter sat listening to her father, Cyrano, rehearse a song for the Ball. Though Cyrano was not as old as some of the tribe's other cats, the tom had had enough sorrow to last a few lifetimes. His ginger-and-white fur had long turned dull and dusty, his manner meek and defeated.

Though Jellicles dared every year to ask who would be chosen to travel to the Heaviside Layer, Jellicles rarely dared to presume to know who the candidate would be. It was considered disrespectful to Old Deuteronomy's wisdom to vocally favor a Jellicle over another for this important yearly choice. Despite this, there seemed to be an unspoken consensus among Jellicles that Cyrano was likely to be chosen this year.

"I have to say, I never care for this," Tugger commented, though Munkustrap wasn't certain if he was referring to Cyrano's song, or Demeter's state as she hugged herself sadly and listened to her father. "Watching the candidates for the Heaviside Layer is such a depressing part of the Jellicle Ball."

"No jokes, Tugger," Munkustrap said. This time he couldn't resist lashing his tail out in irritation; surely Tugger knew better than to mock his brother's mate.

"No jokes at all," Tugger said, with genuine compassion as he watched the scene below. Munkustrap sometimes forgot about his brother's empathetic side. If only he didn't work so hard to hide it. "Demeter's family could use a break."

Tugger was right about that. Demeter had barely been out of kittenhood when her mother had been abducted and eventually found dead, all under Macavity's direction. Demeter had grown up with a special loathing for the so-called Hidden Paw. Cyrano, for his part, had simply lapsed into sadness, too far gone for anger.

It wrenched Munkustrap's heart that there was nothing he could do to help Demeter heal from this tragedy, but perhaps seeing her father ascend to the Heaviside Layer and find a new, peaceful Jellicle life would ease her spirits.

Leaving Demeter and her father in peace, Munkustrap quietly turned and followed the car rooftops back towards the center of the junkyard, Tugger still trailing behind.

"We have wagers about the Pekes and Pollicles story, you know," Tugger said, breaking the glorious silence.

Everlasting Cat, give me strength, Munkustrap sighed.

"Some of us are betting on how long it will take until you serve up a perfect rendition of the story, despite your insistence on miscasting the Rumpus Cat role. The rest of us are wondering how long it will take until you entirely give up on performing it. Personally, I'm expecting a mid-story nervous breakdown right around the part where-"

"All right," Munkustrap said with a hiss. He turned and jabbed a paw into his brother's spotted chest. "All right, you can play the Rumpus Cat this year. But listen to me Tugger: you will follow the story, you will follow my lead, and if you embarrass me in front of our father, you'll be banned from ever playing so much as a peke, ever again. Understand?"

"It will be a performance to remember," Tugger said. He made a grand show of rising to his legs and bowing to his brother. Had he been a pollicle, Munkustrap was certain his tail would be wagging.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Munkustrap sighed. "Now would you please go make yourself useful somehow?"

"Useful?"

"Go help some cats with their singing, help clear off the middle of the junkyard by the tire—anything. As long as it's far away from me."

"Whatever my brother desires."

"And I don't think the young queens need any help with their dancing."

Munkustrap saw the slight waver in his brother's retreating steps, only to be brushed off with a flourish.

The tabby sat on his haunches and shook his head. For the most part, he enjoyed the few days before the Jellicle Ball.

The Jellicles had many traditions. And one of them was that interesting, unusual things always happened at the yearly Ball.


	2. Artful and Knowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rum Tum Tugger is a terrible bore but an excellent flirt

Truth be told, Tugger always felt a little naked without a few pairs of eyes (and paws) on him. The queens were indeed busy with the upcoming Ball, and as easy as it would have been to track down the nearest group to bask in a few admiring shrieks, the attention just wasn't the same when he had to go seek it out himself. He briefly considered finding a group of toms—maybe it was his imagination, but Plato seemed interested in putting on a show for Tugger these days, and the young tom was terribly handsome- but decided against it for the same reasons. Let someone come by and fawn over him of their own volition.

Left to his own devices as he wandered about the junkyard, Tugger was rapidly becoming bored. This was not a state he cherished. While he could survive fine without attention, being bored was simply not an option.

Formulating a plan, he strolled towards the centre square of the junkyard, breathing in the lingering scents of the Jellicles until he'd zeroed in on the one he wanted. Letting his charmed nose do the work, he followed the particular scent through the uneven paths of the junkyard to a small clearing behind an old, rusted oven.

There was a single tom there, oblivious to his audience as he bent and leapt in his private dance. Grinning, Tugger settled himself against the overturned oven, staying out of sight to enjoy the view.

It was hard to believe Mistoffelees had once been an ungainly kit. Though Tugger had a few years on the small black-and-white tom, they had all but grown up together. For Tugger, jumping, climbing and dancing like a true Jellicle (with perhaps a bit more hip action than your average Jellicle) had never been a problem, even before he'd been fully-grown. Mistoffelees as a small kitten, however, had always seemed a little awkward to the other Jellicles, though all that had vanished once he'd grown into his limbs and tail and found his centre. Now it seemed there was no limit to what the youth could do.

He was a sight to behold. Under Tugger's scrutinizing gaze, Mistoffelees bent low towards the ground, bringing his arms around in a graceful arc, before leaping up to his full height. After a brief pause, to catch his breath and ponder a next move, he balanced on one leg, holding the pose for a few moments before shifting his weight and gaining momentum, beginning a series of spins on one foot.

A little wobbly, but definitely gifted, Tugger mused as he watched Mistoffelees continue his spin, losing his visual count of the revolutions. By next year's Ball, the kit would be able to out-dance them all. Had this been any other cat demonstrating such skill, Tugger would have felt more than a hint of jealousy. But when it came to Mistoffelees, he had nothing but affection.

He wasn't alone in that regard; Tugger couldn't think of a single Jellicle who disliked the young tom, and that was quite a feat considering Mistoffelees had a tendency towards shyness. For all his aloofness, though, there was a charm and a sparkle to be found in the young tom. He kept it carefully guarded when around most of the other Jellicles; though he certainly loved to romp and play with the other kittens, with a rather refreshing innocence, there was also a surprising depth to be found in the black-and-white kit. Tugger was one of the rare cats who had glimpsed the real, deep-down Mistoffelees. Of course, he would parade around with a shaved mane before admitting how much he cared for the young Jellicle; the Rum Tum Tugger did not go around harboring unreturned crushes. It simply would not do his flirtatious reputation any good

There was another draw, of course. All of the queens and most of the toms, especially the young, curious toms, had at some point counted themselves within Tugger's little fan club. But, for all their closeness, Mistoffelees had remained annoyingly aloof when it came to delighting over the Rum Tum Tugger. They were friends, no doubt about that. Close friends, and they had shared many things Tugger would not dream of sharing with others. But there was that one barrier which had yet to be crossed, and somehow, it made the little tom all the more irresistible in Tugger's eyes.

As he continued to watch, Mistoffelees began a series of small leaps, spinning once or twice in mid-air before landing soundlessly back into the ground. It was obvious he was tiring; his movements, though graceful, were beginning to lose their luster. It was time for the small tom to rest, and beside, Tugger had had enough of simply watching.

"Beautiful," Tugger purred, sauntering over into the clearing from his spot next to the oven. "You'll be the hit of the Ball at this rate."

Mistoffelees started at the sudden appearance of the Maine coon, losing his balance with a slight wince. "Tugger? How long have you been watching?"

"Long enough to see poetry in motion."

"Flirt," Mistoffelees muttered. He lowered himself to the ground on all fours, stretching out his sleek black body.

Tugger made no effort to hide his gaze as he watched the slim body arc, tense, then relax, following the graceful line of spine and tail as Mistoffelees rose again, chest still heaving slightly from his previous exertion. Everlasting Cat, the kit was beautiful to watch; Tugger never made it a secret that he liked to watch beautiful things.

"I come with exciting news," Tugger said with a grin. He stretched himself out comfortably on the ground, hoping Mistoffelees would join him. "Munkustrap personally asked me to play the Great Rumpus Cat at the Jellicle Ball this year."

"For the story about the Pekes and the Pollicles?" Mistoffelees asked, still catching his breath. "I thought the performance didn't go so well at the last Ball. Why would Munkustrap do it again?"

"We do it every year, kit, it's our father's favorite story," Tugger said. He patted the ground next to him, hoping Mistoffelees would get the message and come lie down next to him. "There's no way we wouldn't perform it for him. And I can assure you, this year will be spectacular with yours truly in the starring role."

"Well," Mistoffelees said with a smile. "I look forward to being dazzled and awed by the Rum Tum Tugger."

He gave Tugger a mock bow, then carefully lowered himself to the ground, gingerly stretching out his legs in front of him. His moan of pain was not lost on the older tom.

"Hey, you didn't go and hurt yourself, did you?" Tugger asked. "That would be a terrible waste."

"No," Mistoffelees said. He absently rubbed at the black fur over his thighs. "It's just that I've been practicing all night. My legs are starting to ache."

"Beginner's mistake. But don't worry, I've got a secret cure for that."

"Tugger-"

The tom was right to be wary of any "secret cures" Tugger might have to offer, but once in a while the flirt had a good deed in mind. He sat up on his haunches in front of Mistoffelees and took one of the slender legs in his hands, threading his fingers through the soft white fur and finding the sore muscle beneath, kneading it between his fingers. Mistoffelees' wince was quickly replaced by a moan of pleasure as Tugger began to massage the ache away.

"Good?"

A contented purr was his answer. Tugger grinned and continued to rub the soft limb, fully intending to enjoy this proximity to his friend. He discreetly inhaled Mistoffelees' scent and tried not to purr himself, contenting himself with watching Mistoffelees' eyes slowly drift shut. How he loved seeing the effect he had on other cats.

He must have been watching and massaging Mistoffelees for quite some time, as Tugger suddenly noticed the light of the moon had begun to fade, replaced by the stronger glow of the encroaching sun; it would be dawn soon.

A shame; Jellicles looked their best by the moonlight, and Mistoffelees was no exception.

"The moon is setting," Tugger said softly, hoping not to startle the young tom out of his relaxed trance.

Mistoffelees opened his eyes and blinked a little sleepily, frowning at the disappearing moonlight. While some of the Jellicles enjoyed being out and about while the sun was out, Mistoffelees most assuredly did not.

He cupped his hands in front of his white chest, and Tugger paused in his massage, unsure of what the young cat was up to, not willing to risk breaking the deep look of concentration that had appeared on his face. Mistoffelees then spun his hands in a carefully-controlled arc in front of himself, and spread them out towards the sky.

At once, the encroaching daylight disappeared. It was as though a small cloud had passed over the clearing, plunging the two into blissful twilight once again. Tugger purred appreciatively.

"It won't last very long," Mistoffelees said. He sounded a little sheepish, as though embarrassed at the use of magic. "And it's only here, over us. I just want to enjoy the moonlight for a few more minutes."

It was easy to forget what skills the small tom possessed; Mistoffelees rarely made a show of his abilities, both shy and wary about displaying magical skills he barely understood himself. It was a mystery as to where these powers had come from; maybe a fluke of feline ability, maybe a gift from the Everlasting Cat herself. Whatever they were, Mistoffelees had had to teach himself every little trick he knew.

"Still, it's a nice trick," Tugger said with a grin. "Will you be doing any of that magic at the Ball?"

Mistoffelees vehemently shook his head. "Of course not! All I can do now is play tricks with shadows and lights. I can't control any more of the magic. Besides, it's my first Ball. I'd probably end up embarrassing myself in front of the other Jellicles."

"I think you'd impress them all," Tugger said. "The kittens, at least. Other leg."

"I'm not looking to impress anyone," Mistoffelees said, stretching out his other leg into Tugger's grasp. Again, he moaned and purred softly as Tugger's strong hands worked on his stiff muscles.

"Of course, you wouldn't want to exert yourself on your first Jellicle Ball," Tugger said. "Leave that to us experienced toms. Other than that, are you looking forward to it?"

"Oh yes," Mistoffelees said, eyes slowly drifting shut again. "Though I'm not sure what to expect. I've asked some of the toms and queens what the Ball is like, but they say it's not something that can be put into words."

"They're right. The first Ball can be exciting. Overwhelming, for some kits."

Mistoffelees opened his eyes, just enough for an indignant glare. "I'm not a kit."

"Then you should be just fine," Tugger said with a flourish. "You're already dancing circles around most of the other toms. And you're already as beautiful as most of the queens."

"Awfully generous, Tug," Mistoffelees muttered with a small grin. "I wouldn't want to take any attention away from you."

"No worries there. Once Old Deuteronomy arrives, Munkustrap will have us perform the story of the Pekes and the Pollicles. And that's when you won't be able to take your eyes off me. You may even learn a few tricks of your own."

"I think I've already learned all there is to know about your rump."

They laughed quietly, then lapsed into silence as Tugger continued to massage Mistoffelees' legs. After a while, he couldn't resist retreating to his favorite topic. "You should enjoy the mating. Most Jellicles look forward to it all year; mating while at the Jellicle Ball is a unique experience."

Tugger could feel the muscle tense beneath his hands; Mistoffelees' entire body had gone rigid at the mention. "I-I don't know if… I mean, I don't think I want to…"

"Relax," Tugger said. Everlasting, was the kit blushing? "You don't have to. You'll be expected to participate in the mating dance, of course—I think Alonzo and Cassandra are dancing their union this year. But you don't need to actually mate in front of everyone. You can just…" Tugger grimaced, as though tasting a bad mouse. "… cuddle with someone if you want."

"Maybe I'd rather that, instead of mate," Mistoffelees said quietly. "Especially at my first Ball…"

"Maybe next year, you can try mating," Tugger agreed. He cheekily added, "Once you've had some practice."

Another quiet laugh. This time, Tugger couldn't resist staring at Mistoffelees' face, as he closed his eyes, both from contentment at Tugger's skilled hands and from growing fatigue. It was almost dawn, despite the bit of magic that kept the rising sunlight from spilling into the clearing, and almost time for sleep. He seemed drowsy enough that Tugger wondered if he'd stopped paying attention to where the older tom's hands were heading.

"Tugger…"

"Yeah, kit?"

"That's not where it hurts."

Tugger grinned, though he pointedly did not remove his hands from where they had travelled, inching higher with every rub, following the gentle curves of black and white fur all the way up Mistoffelees' hips.

"Are you sure? It's quite awful to get a cramp in that area. Terrible for dancing. Best to nip it in the bud as quickly as possible, I always say."

Mistoffelees' eyes fluttered open. "You speak from experience, of course."

"But of course," Tugger said. Spurred on, he kept his hands on Mistoffelees' hips, moving forward so he could straddle the outstretched legs. Well well; had he finally made some progress with the small tom?

"I know a surprising number of tricks myself. I could teach them to you."

"Tugger…" Mistoffelees breathed as their faces drew closer. "Has anyone ever told you…?"

"Mm?"

"… that you're a terrible bore?"

Tugger grinned, backing off and throwing up his hands in mock defeat.

Always this. Always the harmless flirting, the playing. It was no secret; Tugger did so with practically every queen and every tom who could be halfway coaxed into a reaction. Of course, most of them responded in some way. With Mistoffelees, it was always… this. The elegant small tom; cool, aloof, and unaffected by Tugger's charms. How very vexing.

The dawn light had begun to spill back into the small clearing. True to Mistoffelees' earlier prediction, his little light-and-shadow trick had already dissipated.

"It's getting late," Tugger said, swinging his legs off Mistoffelees and rising up. "Come on; little kittens need their sleep."

"So do doddering old cats," Mistoffelees returned. He accepted the hand held out to him and let Tugger hoist him to his feet.

"All better?"

"Much," Mistoffelees smiled. "Thank you for helping."

"Take it easy with the practicing," Tugger said. "Stretch before dancing. And after. You got lucky tonight; you won't convince me to give you my attention and skills again."

"Any more advice from the great Rum Tum Tugger?"

"Only to enjoy the Ball," Tugger said, running a hand down his fluffy mane before adding, "Keep your eyes on the Rumpus Cat at all times. And don't forget: the Jellicle Moon can do strange things to a cat."

Mistoffelees gave him a rather eloquent eye roll before turning to leave. "Good night, Tugger."

"'Night, Misto," Tugger called back.

Well, with that lovely distraction over and done, Tugger had to admit that it was getting late. He would have no chance of finding a new audience, so retreating back to his den for some rest would be a capital idea. He would, after all, need to be perfectly refreshed in order to properly dazzle the tribe in a few days.


	3. By the Light of the Jellicle Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Jellicle Cats come one, come all! Jellicle Cats come out tonight! The Jellicle Moon is shining bright! Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball!_

It was little wonder that the Jellicles so fervently looked forward the yearly Ball. The moment the sun set behind the cityscape, and the Jellicle Moon appeared, Mistoffelees found himself transfixed, staring up at the unusual moon while a palpable energy radiated from his core, causing his fur to pleasantly bristle and his whiskers to twitch. It had taken a good-natured thump to the shoulder from Jellylorum to rouse him from his trance and remind him to join the others in dance.

He couldn't imagine why he'd been so nervous before. It was so easy to get caught up in the dances, the closeness, following the lead of the other, experienced Jellicles. By the time the first dance ended, Mistoffelees was breathless but far from tired, already infused with an invigorating energy. He couldn't even imagine how his legs had been so sore just a few days prior; right now he felt as though he could continue on for hours.

The night, of course, was still young. Though this newfound energy felt absolutely boundless. He sat down on a pile of old newspapers and watched the tribe mingling and chatting, a smile on his face. A quick nuzzle against his head fur made him start; for a moment Mistoffelees assumed it was Tugger, seeking him out to tease as they so often did to one another, but it was Electra. She smiled and sat down on the same pile of papers. It was the young queen's first Ball too; Mistoffelees wondered if she'd been as nervous as him.

It was not long after this that Mistoffelees noticed the twins, Coricopat and Tantomile, glancing towards the entrance of the junkyard. They did not smile often, but they were lovely when they did so, in perfect sync, as with all of their actions. The twins were known about the Jellicles to be sensitives, even more so than an average cat. Though Mistoffelees imagined that the others simply didn't pay enough attention to their own senses, for he also felt keenly aware of what had caught the twins' attention just now: it was Old Deuteronomy, slowly making his approach for the Ball.

The elderly cat did not visit often, preferring to rest his old legs and preserve his strength in the quiet nearby village. When he did visit, it brought great joy to the tribe.

Mistoffelees caught Coricopat's eye and smiled. There was no mistaking the presence of Old Deuteronomy; Mistoffelees wasn't certain how the twins perceived him, but for him, the old patriarch's arrival was always heralded by the same feelings: warmth, comfort, and assurance, though the strong presence of the old cat also left him feeling intimidated. There were many times when Mistoffelees would have liked to approach Old Deuteronomy and speak with him, but had not felt the courage to follow through.

"What are you looking at?" Electra asked, batting at him a bit to break him out of his reverie.

Mistoffelees blinked; he'd drifted away, staring towards the entrance of the junkyard. "Old Deuteronomy is coming."

Electra frowned. "He is? I don't see him…"

Out in the main assembly of Jellicles, Tantomile strode towards Munkustrap and whispered something to him. Mistoffelees could see the protector's ears happily perk at the news; no doubt she had informed him of Old Deuteronomy's imminent arrival, and this was made clear when Munkustrap sent Alonzo out towards the junkyard entrance, surely for him to assist the old cat.

The atmosphere in the junkyard changed in an instant. The moment Old Deuteronomy slowly ambled into view, with Alonzo gently supporting his arm, the Jellicles all but ran to him in a flurry of greetings and respectful bows. The younger ones couldn't resist leaping into his arms, which left Old Deuteronomy smiling. It was no secret that he held a special place in his heart for the kittens of the tribe.

It was always like this- this outpouring of pure joy and admiration whenever Old Deuteronomy walked among them. Even Tugger proudly walked over to embrace his father. There was not a single Jellicle who remembered a time without their leader, and it was impossible to imagine the tribe without his wisdom and guidance.

"How did you know he was coming?" Electra gasped. "You always know funny things like that. You have to teach me your trick."

Before Mistoffelees could answer, she leapt off the newspaper pile to join the cats in happily greeting their leader. Mistoffelees did the same, though instead of diving for Old Deuteronomy like so many others, he opted to stand behind a bit and bow politely.

As Munkustrap aided Old Deuteronomy to his favored seat on the old tire, Mistoffelees remained where he stood, watching the silent procession. A familiar scent wafted from somewhere behind and Mistoffelees glanced behind, where Tugger was brushing against his back and leaning in to whisper.

"Showtime, kit."

Oh. Oh right! Indeed it was, as Munkustrap had begun quietly urging the Jellicles to their places. And so would begin the telling of the Awefull Battle of the Pekes and the Pollicles (with, of course, the Account of the Participation of the Pugs and Poms, and most importantly, the Intervention of the Great Rumpus Cat.)

Mistoffelees, like the other kittens and other cats who weren't keen on receiving a starring role, where meant to play assorted pekes, pollicles, pugs and poms. He knew how the story was meant to play out; every Jellicle did, as it was one of the oldest stories passed around the junkyard.

He suspected that most treated the performance as a game, to Old Deuteronomy's great delight. Though this attitude didn't seem to do much for Munkustrap's nerves.

Though Mistoffelees had to admit, the storytelling was progressing quite well; Admetus and Cassandra opened the story by playing the opposing peke and pollicle, though something about Cassandra's "barks" were a little too dainty and dignified to be entirely believable.

Once the actual "battle" began, it became clear why the story had a tendency to dissolve into chaos; every participating Jellicle seemed to have a different idea of where to stand and how to act as Munkustrap continued telling the story. For his part, Mistoffelees did his best to stand out of sight and fall in line behind the others in their Pollicle costumes, though it was difficult not to get caught up in the hilarity.

At least, until the great Rumpus Cat was meant to make his entrance.

It had to be said that Tugger really did make an impressive Rumpus Cat. He looked quite handsome in the Jellicle-made costume- though it seemed to have taken a bit of effort to stuff his mane into the costume, making it bulge oddly in place- and was tall and confident as he leaped out, on cue, and stood next to Munkustrap, who proudly relayed the Rumpus Cat's frightening attributes. At least, until they reached the climax of the tale.

Mistoffelees couldn't stifle a laugh. The great Rumpus Cat, evidently feeling rather attractive in his costume, did not so much give a great leap to frighten the fighting animals away, as Munkustrap narrated; but rather, he gave an epic thrust of the loins towards the wall of poms.

And the poms didn't so much scatter like sheep, as they fell over themselves squealing and pawing at the great Rumpus Cat, to the point that it took several minutes for Munkustrap to regain control of the cats and end the story. Old Deuteronomy was all but doubled over with laughter.

Mistoffelees had to hand it to Tugger; the tom certainly did know how to put on a show, doubly so if it meant aggravating his brother.

The story finally concluded, Munkustrap seemed to take it in good spirits. After all, Old Deuteronomy was entertained, and that was all that mattered. Though Munkustrap was distinctly heard to mutter that next year, he would be asking Admetus to play the Rumpus Cat.

***

The moon was almost at its highest and soon the mating dance was meant to begin. Before the dancing was to take place, the tribe would allow any of its members to step forward and sing. For most, it was merely a chance to perform. For others, it was meant as a plea to be chosen to ascend to the Heaviside Layer.

In the weeks preceding the Ball, there had been a quiescent anticipation among the Jellicles, and sure enough, the moment Cyrano stepped forward, not a sound was heard among the assembled cats and many stepped back to give him as much room as possible.

Mistoffelees quietly treaded over to the old car on the edge of the clearing and leapt up onto the top, drawing his knees up and making himself as small as possible, blinking a few times to try and clear the feverish energy from his head so he could focus on the song.

Below him, Coricopat and Tantomile soundlessly and simultaneously stepped up onto the boot of the car, reclining together as they all listened to Cyrano begin his song. He sang of being a proud tom and a devoted father, and of pain and lost love. His story was saddening, and while Mistoffelees didn't quite understand all that had happened to the older cat, he quite pitied him. If anyone deserved to find the peace of the Heaviside Layer this year, it was surely Cyrano.

When the older tom's song ended and the Jellicles began to mingle again and dance, Mistoffelees watched him leave and curl up next to an old oven, as though exhausted from the attention. Demeter went to sit by him; she too looked sad and exhausted. It didn't seem right to have so much pain at what was meant to be a happy celebration.

Mistoffelees saw Coricopat and Tantomile give one another a knowing, silent look. He crouched down on the roof of the car, intending to politely capture the twins' attention, but they seemed to be expecting him, immediately turning, in sync, to look up at him expectantly.

"I'm sorry," Mistoffelees said. "But I was wondering. What exactly happened to Cyrano?"

Coricopat and Tantomile exchanged another one of their looks, as though having a private discussion as to whether they should answer the young tom or not.

It was Tantomile who spoke first, "It all happened many years ago. Their family was complete, once. Demeter's mother was once among us, as was her aunt."

"Did they go to the Heaviside Layer?"

Coricopat shook his head. "Demeter's mother was taken from the tribe. By Macavity."

Mistoffelees winced. Now he understood why the twins had been reluctant to share the tale. He knew of Macavity, of course; the kits were forever being warned of the villainous cat. It was said that he wasn't above any wicked deed, and had no qualms about hurting any queen, tom, or kit.

"Why would he take her?" Mistoffelees asked quietly.

"No one ever knew for certain," Tantomile said. "We searched for weeks. Macavity hid her well from us. Cyrano eventually found her, but she had passed on. Tormented to death by Macavity."

"It hurt Cyrano very deeply," Coricopat said. "And broke Demeter's heart. The tribe, and their family, was left shattered by this."

Mistoffelees glanced towards the oven, where Cyrano and Demeter still sat, watching as some of the younger Jellicles attempted to create a pyramid by climbing on one another's shoulders. It was true that he had known them both to be withdrawn and skittish, though Demeter did have days where she could smile carefree. She seemed most at ease when Munkustrap was close to her.

"You said Demeter had an aunt?" Mistoffelees asked.

Both twins seemed to harden at the mention, especially Tantomile, who glanced away as she said, "We don't usually speak of her."

"But what happened to her? Does she still live with us?"

"You would not know her," Coricopat said. "This all happened when you were still a newborn kit."

"Demeter's aunt could not take the pain of her sister's fate, and so left the tribe," Tantomile said. "She believed the outside world would ease her pain. Provide a distraction. It was a selfish decision."

"It brought Cyrano and Demeter an even greater pain. They needed their family, more than ever in this time of sorrow, but she chose to abandon them. It was made clear that she would never be welcomed back."

"Cyrano never recovered from this double loss. And Demeter may never forgive her aunt for abandoning her family to their pain."

"That's… that's awful, I had no idea," Mistoffelees whispered. There was so much more he wanted to ask the two, but as if on cue, they turned away from him and slowly lowered themselves from the boot of the car. Clearly, that was all the information they were willing to supply.

Mistoffelees' pity soon turned to anxiety as he heard Old Deuteronomy call out to the Jellicles, who eagerly assembled before him. It was time for the mating dance.

He remembered Tugger's advice; he did not have to mate with anyone. He knew this. It was tradition to simply dance, happily welcome the Jellicles who formally announced a union at the Ball—Alonzo and Cassandra, he knew—and, for those who so chose, to find a fellow Jellicle and mate, just once, for the night. Some merely cuddled together as friends. Mistoffelees didn't feel particularly driven to do either.

It wasn't that he didn't care for anyone in the tribe; quite the opposite, he mused, trying and failing to catch Tugger's eye as he spotted the Maine coon ambling in the back of the group. Mistoffelees sighed; he would have felt a bit better to have his friend close by for this. Even if Tugger wouldn't be caught dead simply snuggling with another Jellicle when half the tribe was surely trying to catch his attention at the moment.

Mistoffelees was pleased, at least, that the dancing distracted him. Again, he found it so very easy to coast along on the burning energy, leaping and arching along with the others. By the time they parted to rest and allowed space for Alonzo and Cassandra to step forward and begin their own private dance, Mistoffelees found himself filled with energy again, his nerves dissipating, replaced with a pleasant exhilaration.

It was customary, he'd been told, for the Jellicles to fall into slumber after the mating dance, either curled up with their mates, or friends. Maybe some rest would be a good idea. He rolled over onto his back, careful not to disturb the cats beside him—Admetus and Bombalurina, he saw, who had finished whatever they'd intended to do and now calmly dozed against each other—and opened his eyes to stare up at the moon.

It was round and bright, so oddly bright. He knew the moon only travelled across the sky to make way for the morning sun, but he could swear the glowing orb was dancing, darting across the sky as he blinked feverishly at it. The longer he stared, the more his limbs began to feel heavy, his hands tingling as though his magic wanted to appear, and his breath grew short.

Mistoffelees had to look away; maybe he was more tired than he thought, and his mind was playing strange tricks on him. Blinking, he rolled onto his side, looking out at the tribe.

He was relieved to see he was not the only one who had chosen not to mate. Demeter had completed her dance and now sat, curled in a small ball and calmly watching the others. Skimbleshanks, in Jenny's absence while she cared for the kittens away from the clearing, merely sat and shared warmth with Jezebel.

He couldn't see Tugger, but surely there was no way the handsome cat was alone at the moment. Strangely enough, the thought of Tugger somewhere out there with a queen in his arms gave him a small pang of regret.

All around him, the other Jellicles reclined and purred contently. Mistoffelees tried to relax alongside them—pointedly looking away from the moon- but all he could feel was the hammering pulse of his heart, refusing to let the restlessness dissipate from his body. He felt warm, as though he'd sat out in the sun too long, and was hungry, though not for food. Was it because he had not mated, had not satisfied some deep-seated urge? Tugger hadn't warned him about that part. But no, he looked around the furred heap of Jellicles and saw Skimbleshanks, and Jezebel, and any others who hadn't mated, and they certainly seemed to be resting contently.

Mistoffelees rolled over onto his stomach and stretched out his limbs, lashing his tail about, unable to stay still. His movements displaced a scent that had settled on his fur from earlier, and suddenly filled him with a strong desire. It was Tugger's scent, from when the larger tom had brushed against him before the Pekes and Pollicles performance. Unwillingly, he began to purr in pleasure at the scent.

Before he had a chance to drive himself mad, he noticed the other Jellicles had begun to stir and rise around him. Welcoming the distraction from his strange feelings, he also bolted to his feet, just as Munkustrap rose before the group, announcing that dawn was nearly approaching. Old Deuteronomy was about to announce the chosen cat as the tribe went silent.

To no one's surprise, Cyrano was asked to come forward, and Demeter helped her father step towards Old Deuteronomy with a look of relief on her face.

The other Jellicles gathered to see off the old tom to the Heaviside Layer; Mistoffelees, as was his way, tried to stay at the back of group. He was pleased about the choice, but felt too giddy and energetic to properly focus on what was happening. He was able to register the warm glow as Cyrano ascended to the Heaviside Layer, and that was about it.

The Jellicles sang happily, nuzzling and cajoling as they began to spread apart. Mistoffelees blinked; the Ball had ended. But it had not taken with it his consuming desire.

He smiled at the passing Jellicles, doing his very best to maintain his composure. He caught Tugger's scent again, either from his own fur, or from the tom's nearby presence, and suddenly felt his desire intensify.

He began to search the crowd for the older tom. As he walked around, a little unsteady, Coricopat and Tantomile calmly sauntered past him, turning to gaze at him with perfect synchronicity. The two cats rarely smiled, but Mistoffelees was certain they flashed him a tiny, sly grin as they locked eyes. He had a strange, sneaking suspicion that the twins knew about the whirlwind of energy inside him. All the same, they continued to walk away, nodding politely to Munkustrap as they passed the silver tabby, and disappeared into the throng of Jellicles.

Mistoffelees felt his heart race as he scanned the dispersing crowd. Munkustrap was gently nuzzling Demeter, no doubt comforting her after her father's departure. Alonzo and Cassandra had left a long time ago, no doubt to better enjoy their matehood in peace. Most of the others were either retreating to their dens to sleep, or hanging about to speak and nuzzle one another before leaving. Mistoffelees' eyes darted about.

Tugger. The thought of the other tom left him shivering with arousal. He needed to find Tugger.

With the heat spreading and filling his core, Mistoffelees set off at a frantic pace, easily catching Tugger's familiar scent, certain this time that it wasn't just floating off his own coat, and followed it to its source.

He barely paused when he finally found Tugger; the Maine coon was lounging in the crook of an old wooden armchair as he spoke to Plato, while an eager Electra sat close by, admiring the handsome tom.

The way Tugger looked his way and artfully smiled made Mistoffelees' heart race. He seemed about to speak—maybe to ask Mistoffelees to join his small but eager group of admirers—but was cut short as the small tom all but leapt at him, grasping his wrists and pulling him away from the group, to Plato and Electra's consternation. He savored the fact that for the first time, he had actually seen Tugger with a genuine look of bewilderment on his face.

"Come on, follow me," Mistoffelees said, his voice breathy with excitement. "I need to show you something."

"I hope it's monumental," Tugger said. "Plato was in the middle of a rather glowing review of my performance tonight."

Tugger hardly seemed to be protesting the treatment. Still grasping his wrists, Mistoffelees led them both past the Jellicles, over the hood and behind the old car off to the side of the junkyard. It was quiet there, and mostly out of sight. He turned Tugger's hands loose.

"Hey, look at you, kit," Tugger suddenly said. He ran a paw against the black fur of Mistoffelees' left arm; it was sparkling. How long had that been happening, Mistoffelees wondered? He couldn't help but react to Tugger's touch with a shiver of pleasure and a loud purr.

"Your fur's doing a good impression of the Jellicle Moon. I thought you weren't going to do any magic tonight."

"I'm not," Mistoffelees said. It was so hard to concentrate with this strange, consummate energy burning inside him, spurring him to actions he did not entirely understand. "It's not magic. I just feel all… exhilarated."

"You certainly look like it. Now weren't you supposed to show me something?"

They were far away enough that nobody would pay them too much attention. With a boldness Mistoffelees did not know he possessed, he all but leapt into Tugger's arms and kissed him.

Immediately, Tugger's arms were around him, supporting his weight as he clung to the taller cat. They kissed for several blissful seconds, until Tugger gently pulled away.

"Misto, what's gotten into you?" Tugger whispered. His warm breath made Mistoffelees' ear twitch.

"I need you, Tugger," Mistoffelees murmured, and as much as it felt wanton, he arched his back and rubbed himself against Tugger's waist. "Maybe I've always needed you. I just… I want to…"

He was silenced by Tugger's lips on his own. He could have stayed like this all night, savoring Tugger's flat, rough tongue in his mouth, if it wasn't for the fact that the fire inside him was intensifying, demanding more. He couldn't help but unsheathe his claws, dragging them through the fur on Tugger's shoulders and into his skin.

Tugger hissed softly. "Easy, kit. Let's go somewhere quieter before you explode."

"Oh yes, please."

He was released back onto his tottering, unsteady feet, though Tugger's arm around him was a nice counterweight. He rubbed against Tugger's side, wanting to be ensconced in the tom's scent.

"Didn't I warn you?" Tugger said with a small laugh, as he led the younger tom away. "The Jellicle Moon can do strange things to a cat."


	4. A Different Kind of Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **CW: Rated M for Tugger and Misto getting down and dirty.**

Tugger's den was spacious and comfortable. He had claimed it about two summers ago, after an oversized wooden bureau had been discarded in the junkyard. The cherry-wood was old but sturdy, thick enough to leave the inside warm and protected from the elements. An assortment of blankets, scavenged over the years, comfortably lined the bottom.

It was no secret that many queens and even a few toms had seen the inside of Tugger's den. Mistoffelees himself had been there many times before. But never, ever for this purpose.

They all but tumbled through the opening of the den, a crack in the bottommost drawer of the bureau. It had been a bit tricky for Tugger to bring the small tom over to his den, what with the way he insisted on stopping every few steps to either kiss Tugger, or nuzzle him, or rub against him in a maddeningly distracting way.

Mistoffelees was acting almost like a queen in a heat cycle, Tugger mused, as he watched his newfound lover sprawl out on his side on the blanket pile with a loud purr. Maybe all the mating at the Jellicle Ball, with everyone's pheromones running wild all at once, had affected the young tom more deeply than he expected. Well, Tugger thought proudly, Mistoffelees had specifically sought him out to satisfy his passions. Maybe he'd had a greater impact on the aloof youth than he'd realized.

That was fine by him. He had thought about the small tom in this situation so many times that it seemed surreal now, to see him lying there with heat in his eyes and all but begging to be touched. Of course, the Rum Tum Tugger was never one to turn down a conquest, especially not one he had pursued for so long.

The scent of arousal was already thickening the air in the den. Climbing onto the blanket pile, Tugger ran a hand down Mistoffelees' spine, laying it on the small of his back just above the tail; the small tom reacted with a moan and a purr, rocking into Tugger's touch. Any other queen or tom, Tugger would have leaped in and began rutting. But Mistoffelees was not just any queen or tom, and certainly not one he was about to conquer and discard. He wanted to take his time, savor this, and make sure Mistoffelees enjoyed himself just as much.

Leaning in, he flicked his tongue against the tip of Mistoffelees' ear. "Are you sure you want this, Misto?"

"Never been more sure," Mistoffelees moaned softly.

"I won't ask a second time."

"Please don't."

He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised; all cats succumbed to Tugger's charms sooner or later. No sooner had he rolled down on top of Mistoffelees than those long white legs, which Tugger had so enjoyed rubbing and manipulating just a few days ago, went around his waist and locked just above his tail, forcing his hips into a rocking rhythm against the smaller tom's. Tugger couldn't resist a purr as a sudden hardness eagerly bumped into his lower belly; it was to be expected, coming from an inexperienced kit, but was no less welcome.

Tugger's hand went searching between their bodies, sliding through fur until he found the hard, warm flesh and gently stroked it. Mistoffelees hissed, baring his fangs, and to Tugger's surprise his shaking hands tugged and pulled through his leonine fur and found Tugger's own growing member.

Everlasting! Tugger groaned. The kit was certainly new at this, fumbling and uncertain, but whatever force had awakened his arousal was also awakening his enthusiasm. He should hardly have been surprised that the small tom had a magical touch.

What did surprise him, though, were Mistoffelees' reactions as they continued to kiss and touch; he knew the smaller tom had never mated before, and had been expecting somewhat more of a blushing virgin. Instead, Mistoffelees was surprisingly responsive, nearly aggressive, arching his body to press himself fully against Tugger, matching him caress for caress, touch for touch.

Tugger couldn't hold back a groan; the small, but skilled hand on his organ was pumping faster and faster, threatening to push him over the edge too soon. Reluctantly, he uncurled his own hand from Mistoffelees' member, hoping the breath in action would help his overeager lover calm down a bit.

"Hey," Tugger said, covering Mistoffelees' stroking hand and gently moving it away from his groin. "Slow down there, or neither of us will last long enough to enjoy this."

Mistoffelees reached up, twining his fingers into Tugger's mane to pull him down, kissing him with trembling lips. "I could do this all night. I need you—I need this more than I've ever needed anything."

Tugger breathed a small laugh. "Took you long enough to realize it. What made you decide that, all of a sudden?"

A brief shrug, and Mistoffelees was staring at him with those burning eyes and a mischievous grin. "Jellicle Moon?"

"If you say so, kit," Tugger said. He ran his long tongue along Mistoffelees' neck once more, following the white pattern of fur as he none-too gently licked his way lower.

It was thrilling to see the effect he had on his friend-turned-lover. He could get used to this, the way Mistoffelees gasped as Tugger ran his rough tongue up against the soft white fur of his chest, stopping here and there to lightly nip at the skin beneath.

He wanted this, Mistoffelees' scent, the scent of their mating, all over his den, his blankets, his fur. If Mistoffelees changed his mind come the dawn, and decided this was all the mating they were ever going to have, at least he wanted the scent and the memory to linger as long as possible.

"Tugger…"

Everlasting, he really could get used to the way Mistoffelees moaned his name. "Easy. Just lay back."

His tongue went lower, delving through black fur until he found the hard member nestled there, tasting musk and heat as he slowly licked the tip.

Mistoffelees' claws went wild, hitching into the blankets beneath his twisting body and rending small holes in the material. He groaned with abandon as Tugger ran his long, supple tongue over and around the organ.

Tugger had to admit that Mistoffelees was beautiful at the point of orgasm. Eyes wide and spine arched, a faint sparkling glow spreading over his fur from head to tail as he twisted and moaned and came against Tugger's tongue.

Tugger began to lap up the essence that had spilled onto the black fur, intending to give the small tom a few moments' rest before continuing their activities, but to his shock Mistoffelees sat up, wrenching his fingers in Tugger's mane and pulling him up for a wild kiss. When they pulled apart, there came another shock: Tugger had expected to see the other cat relaxed or lethargic after orgasm; if anything, his wild energy had intensified, and he was still powerfully aroused.

"Tugger…" Mistoffelees whispered, a feverish glow in his eyes.

Mistoffelees rolled over onto his stomach, tail swishing wildly from side to side. Unable to resist, Tugger pounced and covered the smaller body with his own, licking and then biting at the scruff of Mistoffelees' neck. The reaction was instant; the smaller tom's rear rose up to bump against his hips.

Tugger growled appreciatively. His own desire hadn't been satisfied yet, and he wasn't about to turn down such an erotic display.

Latching onto Mistoffelees' hips, he rolled the tom back onto his back, spreading the supple white legs and wrapping them around his midsection. With a groan, he pressed in; Mistoffelees was all heat and tightness, so much better than anything Tugger had fantasized about. The smaller tom moaned at the penetration, then began to hiss and growl, facial features shifting as though he were in agony, winding his fingers into Tugger's thick mane. This made Tugger pause, his hands still on Mistoffelees' hips; while he certainly did enjoy the occasional bout of rough mating, it wasn't in Tugger's nature to cause his partners pain.

"Misto," he rasped. It was a chore to still his movements and catch his breath. "Maybe we should-"

"No!" Mistoffelees whimpered. He opened his eyes to look up, pleadingly, at his lover. "Please. Please don't stop."

"I don't want to hurt you, kit."

"It doesn't hurt," Mistoffelees said. He grinned a little cheekily, his eyes glazed. "I'm not made of glass. Now move."

Tugger returned the grin before covering Mistoffelees' body with his own, pressing down for another long, languorous kiss. With a small swivel of his hips, he pushed in fully, and felt Mistoffelees' fingers wind even tighter in his mane as he reacted to the sensation.

Though Tugger had a reputation as a passionate lover, he also liked taking the time to savor his partners. It seemed, however, that Mistoffelees had other plans, reaching out wildly until his claws managed to catch Tugger's skin, anchoring himself as he rocked his hips, forcing Tugger to move inside him.

"You little minx," Tugger whispered. Already aroused beyond thought, he obeyed the physical commands, thrusting forward a few times. Gentle at first, at least until he carefully surveyed Mistoffelees' reactions, not willing to hurt the smaller tom.

Mistoffelees' legs tensed and tightened around his waist, latching on with their full strength. Tugger anchored himself on the slender thighs and increased his pace, swiveling his hips in that so-very-famous way that made the queens and toms swoon.

If Mistoffelees had felt unimpressed by his pelvic motions while out in the junkyard, he was definitely changing his tune now; the small tom was all but gasping for breath, eyes glazed but ecstatic, his small body shaken by the force of Tugger's thrusts. Everlasting Cat, he was beautiful, nearly glowing with pleasure.

No, wait. Tugger almost stopped his movements, distracted as he noticed the sight: Mistoffelees was glowing with pleasure. A deep, iridescent sparkle was spreading over the black fur, washing out from the centre of the white chest all the way over to the long, lithe limbs.

The glow only intensified as Tugger continued to press himself inside Mistoffelees' body. It may have been his imagination, or an effect of their mating, but Tugger could swear that Mistoffelees' hands and legs, all tightly wrapped around his body, were growing warmer. In fact, the small tom's entire body was growing hotter.

His tail was lashing wildly against Tugger's thighs. With a series of stuttered breaths, Mistoffelees' body arched off the blankets and he came for the second time that night, nearly blinding Tugger with the sudden force of the glow ebbing from his body. Under the hands still anchored to his skin, Tugger felt a prickling heat, as though their flesh and fur were melding, twining into one. It was all the thought he could give to the strange phenomenon, distracted as he was by much more important things.

If the sound of his lover reaching his peak, hadn't done it, surely the sight of him did, and seconds later Tugger followed, thrusting a few solid last times before spilling himself deep inside his new lover.

It was only after he'd pulled out, collapsing on the blankets with a ragged breath, that the all-consuming sparkle finally faded from Mistoffelees' fur. Dimly, Tugger wondered if the small tom would be wanting a third go, but Mistoffelees looked just as worn out, his body unfurled and relaxed on the blankets. He seemingly had just enough strength to edge closer and snuggle into Tugger's broad chest.

Tugger definitely had a few questions for the other cat, though as he cracked a great yawn, he decided they could wait until morning.

Well… all aside from one.

"So tell me," he said, putting as much suavity in his voice as he could muster. "I'm not such a bore now, am I?"

Mistoffelees gave a small breathless laugh, his eyes drooping with exhaustion. Cradling his head against Tugger's mane, he was asleep within minutes.


	5. About Last Night

A plume of amber sunlight, spilling in through a crack in the den's wall, woke Mistoffelees the following evening. He blinked the dusk light out of his eyes, drowsy and confused for a moment. He usually employed bits of magic, tricks with shadows, to block out any light from coming into his den, preferring to sleep in complete darkness when the sun was out in the sky; after all, being active during the night and sleeping during the day had its disadvantages, though other Jellicles didn't seem to mind basking in the sunlight as they slept.

But his den was usually dark as night. So where was this light coming from?

Mistoffelees uncurled himself from where he had fallen asleep, on his flank on a pile of blankets. These blankets weren't his, and this den didn't smell like his… if anything, it smelled more like…

With a start, he rolled over, flattening his ears the sight of Tugger sprawled carelessly on his back, snoring contently. The drowsiness left him in an instant and the frenetic memories of the previous night, from the Jellicle Ball to mating with Tugger, came tumbling back.

Mistoffelees covered his face and groaned. He couldn't believe he had acted that way. Yes, he had long nursed a crush on Tugger, but he had been so very careful not to let a single hint of it slip through. He liked for Tugger to think he was aloof and unattainable. It made Tugger's occasional pursuit of him entertaining, and he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the attention.

And now he had gone and ruined it all in one disastrous move. Everlasting. Something at the Jellicle Ball had made him lose complete control. At the time, it had seemed so right, so natural to seek out Tugger. Did his magic, faint as it was, have anything to do with his behavior? He remembered Tugger commenting on the glow of his fur, something he had not been controlling nor had given much thought to at the time.

And admittedly, it had been an amazing night; he felt wonderful overall. A little sore here and there, but wonderful. It seemed Tugger thoroughly deserved his reputation.

And now, Tugger would think of him as nothing more than one of the easy, wanton queens, and not the mysterious and aloof tom with who he was such close friends. So much for that; maybe Tugger could happily mate and leave the friendship intact, but he couldn't.

Mistoffelees groaned softly again. He was never attending another Jellicle Ball.

Quietly edging away from the blankets, he made to slip out of the den, but something tugged on his tail, making him yelp. He turned to see Tugger; the tom had woken up and now held the white-tipped end of his tail between his fingers.

"Going anywhere?"

"Yes," Mistoffelees said evenly. "Back to my den."

"You may think about grooming yourself first," Tugger said with a smirk, releasing his tail.

Mistoffelees looked down at himself and growled in dismay. Tugger was right; his fur was in disarray, still marked with the results of their mating. And worse still, the scent of their mating was all over him. He couldn't be seen in the junkyard like this.

With a sigh, he sat on his haunches next to the blankets, curled himself up and began to lick at the fur between his thighs. He tried to ignore Tugger's eyes on him, trying to ignore how any attention from the older tom made his heart race.

Still reclining on the blankets, Tugger yawned and lazily pulled himself into the remains of the sun puddle. "I have to say, I didn't know you had it in you, kit."

Mistoffelees paused mid-lick, the tip of his tongue poking through his teeth, until he remembered to retract it. Well, Tugger certainly didn't waste time, did he?

"Last night was… strange. I'm not sure what happened." It was all he could think to say, especially when he himself did not quite understand his own actions from the previous night. He needed time to think, and Tugger was being so… so… well, Tugger.

How did the older tom do it? His mane was disheveled (leaving Mistoffelees a little ashamed as he remembered how he had frantically tugged and pulled at it while Tugger made love to him), he was lying carelessly on the mussed blankets, and yet he looked absolutely gorgeous. The sunlight on his fur made him look golden and regal.

Mistoffelees shook his head, leaning down again to clean his fur.

"I think a certain frosty little tom finally decided to follow his heart," Tugger said, stretching out his long slender body. "I recall the word 'exhilarated' was used. Also 'need' and 'Tugger', which I never get tired of hearing, and which usually leads to a wonderful night to remember. One I hope you're willing to do again... and again and again."

Mistoffelees straightened up to glare at the lounging tom. "I'm not interested in becoming another one of your conquests."

Tugger gasped. "After the way you used me? I was worried you wanted me to become one of your conquests!"

Though he knew Tugger was merely being melodramatic, Mistoffelees had to admit he had a point; it was him who'd practically assaulted Tugger, not the other way around. That Tugger was perpetually receptive to any potential partner was just dumb luck.

He began to lick at his paw, straightening out his tousled head fur. After a few moments of this, Tugger broke the silence. "You did say you wanted me. Didn't you mean it?"

He could have sworn Tugger was mocking him again, acting like a petulant queen to get a rise out of him. But when he looked up, intending to roll his eyes at the other tom, he was surprised to see genuine emotion in Tugger's eyes. It was a side that was seldom seen. Mistoffelees was one of the privileged few who had seen it before. Now it made his heart race again.

"Yes," Mistoffelees said quietly. "I did mean it."

"So that settles it," Tugger said with a smirk. "We will be doing that again."

"I said I don't want to become another conquest."

"That's not what I'm saying."

Mistoffelees stopped grooming his arm and blinked at Tugger, a little dumbly. Maybe he was still a little tired and sluggish, but surely he was hearing things? "Everlasting, Tugger, surely you don't want us to be mates?"

"After last night, I'd be surprised if you didn't."

"Of course I-" Mistoffelees caught himself before he could finish. Well, why the pretense? A night of passionate mating had made his desires pretty clear; his efforts at aloofness were now officially nil, and there was no use in backtracking now. "Tugger, if you really wanted this, why didn't you say something earlier?"

Tugger raised himself onto all fours on the blankets, his rump in the air as he stretched slowly and languorously. Mistoffelees had to look away from the maddeningly distracting sight.

"Were my advances not perfectly clear?"

"No!" Mistoffelees hissed. He started as he looked back; Tugger had quietly padded closer to him, so close that Mistoffelees was aware of nothing but his scent, his deep brown eyes. "Not coming from you. You flirt, you tease, you kid. You don't mean any of it. You have a fan club, for Everlasting's sake! Are you planning on giving it up?"

"Of course not," Tugger said. "But I wouldn't dare do with them what I'd do with you, if we were mates."

"No. You don't want a mate."

"Since when does anyone tell the Rum Tum Tugger what he wants?"

"Tugger, enough," Mistoffelees said. He pressed a hand to Tugger's spotted chest. He'd meant to push the other tom away, to give himself room to retreat, but the contact reminded him of their mating, their closeness. "Enough with the joking."

"Is this serious enough for you?"

Before Mistoffelees could breathe again, Tugger gathered him in his arms, kissing him heatedly. The small tom couldn't help but go weak in Tugger's embrace. The previous night had happened in such a blur; he remembered the tension, the desire, the heart-stopping pleasure of mating with Tugger, resting bonelessly after the act… but the little things, like kissing Tugger and melting in his embrace, had completely surpassed him.

His head spun when Tugger ended the kiss. Somehow, in the last few seconds, he'd ended up seated in the other tom's lap. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Mistoffelees said weakly. He moaned as Tugger stroked the base of his tail.

"Now do you believe me?" Tugger whispered hotly into his ear. "Then let me put it this way. You're one of a kind, Misto. Even I can see that. And I like it; I've always liked it. So why don't we see what we can make of this?"

Despite himself, Mistoffelees began to purr, idly running his claws through the small tangles of Tugger's mane. This was something he could get used to, sitting in Tugger's arm, receiving attention from the handsome tom.

Well, of course it was something he could get used to; how many times had he dreamed of this exact scenario? And how much time had he spent trying his hardest to hide any effect Tugger may have had on him?

There was the Tugger known mostly to the tribe; the lazy, charming Tugger, the flirt, the attention addict. And there was also this Tugger, the one Mistoffelees got to see once in a while, the one with a softness and kindness that, for whatever reason, he preferred to hide from the other cats. This was the Tugger he wouldn't mind getting to know, the one he felt happy to be around. And the thought of having Tugger as his mate did make him happy.

Cautiously happy and guarded about how far they could actually take this, but happy nonetheless.

"All right," Mistoffelees said quietly, smiling into the fluffy mane. "Let's see what happens."

With a cheeky grin that bared his fangs, Tugger spun him over to the blankets and laid him flat on his back, leaning in for another kiss.

"Hmph- Tugger!" Mistoffelees gasped, guessing at the older tom's intentions as he began to rub himself against Mistoffelees' body. It felt terribly good, but he wanted some breathing time before leaping back into Tugger's blankets. "Not right now. Off."

"You're absolutely right," Tugger said, nuzzling him gently before sliding off. "It would be a better idea for me to parade my new mate around first."

Now released from Tugger's embrace, Mistoffelees leaned in on himself for another quick bout of grooming. He had a feeling he would be doing a lot of that from now on. "You want us to just walk out and start announcing us to everyone?"

"We could stage a re-enactment of last night in the middle of the junkyard. That would get the point across."

"Tugger!"

"Munkustrap could narrate it."

"Everlasting!" Mistoffelees couldn't help but laugh, finishing his quick bath before following Tugger out of the den. Outside, the sun had finally set and the waning moon was beginning its ascent in the sky, leaving the air calm and cool.

A few Jellicles were up and about, paying them no mind—yet. Mistoffelees suddenly felt nervous; it was one thing to contemplate being Tugger's mate while in the privacy and safety of the den, and quite another to face the reactions of the tribe. He wondered what Munkustrap's reaction would be. And, with a small groan, he wondered what Tugger's throng of eager fangirls would think of him.

Either Tugger heard his groan, or sensed that the small tom was no longer following. "Problem?"

"I just realized," Mistoffelees said. "Your admirers are going to hate me."

"I imagine they'll want to skin you alive, absolutely," Tugger agreed. "Try to make yourself as small as possible, they usually go for the legs. Also, they bite."

"I don't want to know how you know that."

Tugger leaned down and gave his cheek a quick lick. "As a matter of fact, I think I'll go find a few lonely Jellicles and listen to reviews of my performance last night." At Mistoffelees' horrified look, he added, "Of my _Rumpus Cat_ performance. For shame, kit."

"Well, you were a wonderful Rumpus Cat," Mistoffelees said with a small grin. "I'll meet you back here later?"

"Of course," Tugger said. "And then we can discuss my other performance."

Mistoffelees watched his new lover saunter away in the junkyard, tail held high, swiveling his hips in that way that seemed second nature to him. He had watched Tugger swagger around many times, but the thought of what those hips were capable of now made him blush.

Everlasting. He was Tugger's mate now. Things were going to be decidedly odd from now on.

"Mistoffelees!"

Starting with that.

There was no mistaking the joyous shriek; it was Etcetera, practically skipping across the junkyard to reach him. Victoria was following close behind. Both had been too young to attend the Jellicle Ball this year and had made him promise he would tell them everything that had happened. He thought it wise to maybe skip a few details.

"Hi Etcetera, hi Victoria—oof!"

The pure white queen nearly knocked him off his feet, tackling him in a hug. For such a dainty young cat, she was surprisingly adept at roughhousing. "I was awake all night thinking about the Ball! Jenny said to go to sleep, but I couldn't sleep when I thought about everyone having fun!"

"Did you have fun?" Etcetera squealed.

"Who went to the Heaviside Layer?"

"Did you dance a lot?"

"Hey, you're glowing!" Victoria said.

It took a second, through the whirlwind of questions, for Mistoffelees to register Victoria's last few words. "I'm—what?"

"Your fur!" Victoria said. She gently pawed at his arm. "It's all sparkly. Is that a new magic trick?"

"Maybe just a little bit of magic," Mistoffelees said, inspecting his arm. His black fur was sparkling, just like it had been last night. Maybe it was the thought of Tugger that did it. He concentrated until the glow ebbed and his fur returned to its usual dark shade.

"I liked it better before," Victoria said. "Now tell us about the Ball!"

The happy shrieks had attracted more of the kittens; Jemima was now tottering over, followed by Electra, the only other kit who had been old enough to attend the Ball this year. Mistoffelees was relieved to see her; at least he could share some of the attention now.

"Cyrano went to the Heaviside Layer," Electra said, proud to show off the fact that she had been present. "And the Ball was a lot of fun."

"The dancing was lovely," Mistoffelees said, smiling as the kits happily settled around him and Electra. "You'll all have a wonderful time next year, I promise."

"By the way, Misto," Electra said. "I saw you take Tugger away and then we didn't see you come back. Where did you go?"

Etcetera gasped. "Did you see Tugger? Did Tugger dance? Was he a beautiful Rumpus Cat?"

"You left the Ball with Tugger?" Victoria asked. "Why? To do what?"

"Did you dance with Tugger?" Jemima innocently asked.

Mistoffelees swallowed; he had hoped to avoid this conversation with the young queens for a little while, but they were nothing if not persistent. Especially Etcetera, whose views of the world were divided into 'Tugger' and 'non-Tugger' at the moment.

Besides, knowing Tugger, he was already out brashly telling everyone about his new mate.

"Well, you see," Mistoffelees began, subtly edging sideward to place Electra between himself and Etcetera. "Tugger and I…"

***

At the other end of the junkyard, Tugger was having precious little luck finding an audience. It made sense that most other Jellicles were still resting in their dens or enjoying private time with their own mates (something he wished he could have been doing with his own mate at the moment). But still, it was unacceptable for Tugger to find himself wandering around, rapidly growing bored.

In a fit of madness, he considered going to find Bombalurina; the queen had not yet grown out of her kittenhood crush on Tugger and he enjoyed nothing more than to wind her up. She took it all in good humor. At least, he hoped she did. Surely sooner or later she would move on and find herself a mate. All the queens eventually did, as soon as they realized Tugger wasn't about to return their screaming affection.

Thankfully, there was always a new gaggle of queens ready to give him the attention he so enjoyed. He doubted he could get through a day without hearing his name affectionately called out.

Of course, he thought with a proud grin, now that he could claim Mistoffelees as his own, he was planning to hear his name being screamed quite a lot.

"Rum Tum Tugger!"

Of course, every so often he would hear his name called out with a disturbing lack of affection. Highly overrated, he thought.

Tugger pasted on his most innocent smile and turned at the sound of his brother's voice. Munkustrap had called to him from where he sat on the large tire, Demeter at his side. There was fire in his eyes, though Demeter appeared to be restraining a laugh; she already seemed in better spirits after last night's Ball.

"You bellowed?" Tugger said.

"You," Munkustrap hissed, aiming a menacing paw in Tugger's direction. "Are lucky not to be exiled from the junkyard after last night! I should have known better than to allow you to perform anything."

"The kits seemed to enjoy my turn as the Rumpus Cat," Tugger said. He leapt up onto the tire, shuffling and pushing until he had positioned himself between Demeter and Munkustrap. "And so did Old Deuteronomy. I would say the night was a complete success."

"Success or not," Munkustrap said. "I plan to have you babysat by the queens at next year's Ball."

"And I plan to show you there is no possible way to keep the spotlight away from - Demeter, are you trying to make my brother jealous?"

Demeter narrowed her eyes, her nose still hovering over his tousled mane, where she had been none-too-subtly sniffing him. "You smell strange."

"So does Munkustrap, but I try to be polite about it."

Ignoring the jab, she continued to glare at him. "Who were you with at the Ball? You don't smell like any of the queens."

Caught red-pawed. He hadn't groomed before leaving his den; Mistoffelees' scent was still all over him. There wasn't much use in hiding it now, and he certainly had no intention of keeping their new matehood a secret.

"Since you're obviously desperate for some gossip, Demeter… it just so happens I was with Mistoffelees." After a pause, he added, "Physically, in case I didn't make myself clear."

"What?" Munkustrap said on one side.

"You mated with Mistoffelees?" Demeter whispered dangerously on his other side.

Excellent, he was going to be berated in stereo.

"Demeter! At least have the decency to scream it across the junkyard. It will save me having to tell everyone later."

Goodness, Tugger mused, to hear her carry on, one would think he had cavorted with one of her own hypothetical kits.

"It's not funny," Munkustrap said.

"All right," Tugger relented. "We were together after the Ball ended, this is true. But there's more to it than that. Mistoffelees and I are mates now."

Demeter gave a rather unqueenlike snort. Munkustrap, for his part, gave him a disbelieving glare. "Is Mistoffelees aware of that fact?"

"He seemed fairly aware of it when we discussed it and he agreed to be my mate. He also seemed quite aware of it when I held him down and kissed his-"

"Enough, Tugger," Munkustrap sighed. "What you do in your den is none of my business, thank the Everlasting Cat, but it does become my business when you start preying on the hearts of your fellow Jellicles."

Now it was Tugger's turn to narrow his eyes. He was quite aware of his reputation in the junkyard, but it had never included consciously breaking the hearts of his lovers. He was flirtatious, not cruel. "Come on, Munkustrap. You know me better than that."

"Yes, I know you. That's why I'm warning you: be careful with him. I don't want to see your first serious attempt at matehood end in disaster, especially if that means hurting Mistoffelees."

"I assure you, Munkustrap, I have no intention of hurting him. I care for him. And trust me; the kit knows how to handle me."

"I hope he does, for both your sakes," Demeter muttered.

"Well," Munkustrap said. "If both you and Mistoffelees are happy, then I suppose I'll be wishing you both well."

Before Tugger could answer with anything more than a grin, all three stiffened at the sound of piercing, excited shrieks in the distance.

"What in Heaviside is that?" Munkustrap asked, leaping into a crouch on the tire in preparation of unseen danger.

"That," Tugger said with a smirk. "Is the sound of the Jellicles learning that the Rum Tum Tugger is officially off-limits. Shall we go? Something tells me Mistoffelees might need some help."


	6. Glow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **CW for puke and rated M for Tugger and Misto getting down and dirty.**

Mistoffelees had always been a light sleeper and an early riser. He'd always expected Tugger to be the opposite, but he soon discovered that his new lover, always restless during waking hours, was the same in his sleep; he never stayed still, rolling around and making a rumpled mess of the blankets even as he snored away, and was usually up and about before Mistoffelees himself even woke up.

These discoveries were just part and parcel of entering a matehood with Tugger; while Mistoffelees certainly knew his friend quite well, learning the more intimate details in these past few weeks had been an adventure in and of itself. Tugger's sexual appetite had been as voracious as he'd expected, which suited him fine; he'd definitely taken a liking to mating, after his first time with Tugger, and he found himself ready for it as often as Tugger was.

He was pleased to find they hadn't lost the habit to tease one another; that part of their earlier friendship was still intact. But on the flipside, Tugger also had the uncanny ability to turn a jab into a compliment, giving their banter an entirely new dimension. And Mistoffelees liked that.

He quite liked finding out all these new things about Tugger. He liked the discovery that Tugger actually enjoyed staying up in their blankets before they both drifted off to sleep for the day, sharing junkyard news. He liked finding out that Tugger's favorite food actually was cream, whenever he could get his paws on some. He liked finding out about the spot on Tugger's jaw which, when licked, made the bigger cat melt in Mistoffelees' arms. He also learned that Tugger liked to take short catnaps, but never where anyone could see him. Only in his den—formally alone, and now, with Mistoffelees at his side.

Tugger was not, sadly, much of a cuddler; Mistoffelees was slightly disappointed that he never found himself in Tugger's arms as they slept side-by-side, but it was something he had simply come to accept as part of their relationship. After all, he certainly wasn't about to ask Tugger to stop being, well, Tugger.

He liked that about him, and had quickly gotten used to waking up on his own while his mate was out and about, enjoying the extra rest with the blankets all to himself.

It was odd then, when Mistoffelees found himself waking up one morning shortly before dusk, with Tugger still snoring away on the pile of blankets next to him. Mistoffelees blinked a little sluggishly and realized he had been awakened by a rather unexpected feeling of nausea.

He sat up on the pile of blankets with a slight moan, hoping the uncomfortable feeling would leave him soon enough. Had something been wrong with that mouse he'd eaten before bed? It had tasted fine, but-

"Hmm, Misto?" His rustling had woken up Tugger. The Maine coon rolled over and blearily looked up at him. "What's going on?"

"I-I don't feel…" It was all he trusted himself to say, before clasping a hand to his mouth and struggling to get his feet under him. This was not going to end well and he wasn't about to soil Tugger's den if he could help it.

The sun was still setting outside when Mistoffelees stumbled out. He'd hoped that some fresh air would help, but his stomach wasn't feeling any better and he quickly scanned the junk pile, looking for—

An old clay flowerpot was the first receptacle he got his paws on, and not a moment too soon as he hunched over and vomited into it. Two more bouts of heaving left him shaky and gasping, tightly gripping the broken rim of the flowerpot until he was sure the bout of nausea was over, if only for the moment.

Everlasting Cat, what had brought that on? The last time he'd gotten so sick was last spring, after he and Tumblebrutus snuck out into the fields behind Dalhousie Park and tucked into the berries growing there. They had both gotten dreadfully ill later that day. But he'd never felt so bad after eating a simple mouse before.

Mistoffelees sat back on shaking legs. He heard what could only be Tugger's shuffling, hesitant footsteps behind him. He knew Tugger wasn't exactly used to this sort of thing; the older tom knew how to be admired and fawned over. Doling out comfort and attention to sick cats, not so much.

"Um, Misto? Are you…?"

"I'm all right," Mistoffelees said weakly. He drew trembling fingers against his mouth. "Could you bring me some water?"

This, it seemed, Tugger could handle, immediately doubling back towards his den. Mistoffelees took advantage of his mate's departure to groan softly and lean against the flowerpot, waiting to see if his stomach was going to act up again. By the time Tugger returned, holding a small bowl of water and eying him warily, the sick feeling had finally begun to leave and his strength was returning.

"Thank you," he said, taking the bowl and carefully lapping at the water. The coolness was soothing and he was eager to clear the unpleasant taste from his mouth.

Tugger settled down beside him. Close, Mistoffelees noticed, but not too close, as though afraid of being graced with a second round of illness.

"So… what happened? Are you okay?" Tugger asked.

"Bad mouse, I guess," Mistoffelees said. He finished the water and set the bowl down with a tired breath. "Whatever it is, it's over now."

"Are you sure?"

"Squeamish, Tugger?"

"Cautious," the older tom huffed. He crawled a bit closer and laid a hand against Mistoffelees' back, rubbing him gently. The gesture was met with a quiet purr. "I don't feel like picking regurgitated mouse parts out of my fur."

"Oh, that's lovely," Mistoffelees said with a small chuckle. He leaned into Tugger's embrace, resting his forehead on his mate's shoulder. "A bit more of that and you're going to make me feel ill again."

He cuddled into Tugger's mane and felt his mate gradually begin to relax as it became clear that he wasn't about to hack up again. Tugger's paw continued to rub up and down his back as the waning sunlight began to disappear; for someone not used to providing gentle comfort, Tugger was certainly becoming good at it.

"Why don't you go back to the den and sleep?" Tugger asked after a few moments.

"Hm, no," Mistoffelees said, glancing upward. The sun had finished setting and a bright new moon was out; the last thing he wanted was to waste any more of the night. The short rest against Tugger's shoulder had worked wonders. "I'm not that tired."

"But you're sick."

"Actually, I feel better now," Mistoffelees said, straightening up with a smile. Though odd, it was true; the last time he'd gotten sick to his stomach, it had taken days to recover; now, the nausea had all but dissipated.

Tugger stared at him dubiously. "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure. Let's go for a walk, I need some fresh air."

Tugger spent most of the night with a wary eye on his mate, much to Mistoffelees' amusement, especially when he found his appetite had returned enough for him to swallow a bit of milk without any repercussions. Whether Tugger was genuinely concerned about his health, or just worried about being hacked on, at least Mistoffelees was enjoying the attention.

He also enjoyed that Tugger did not leave his side; usually they would go their separate ways for most of the night, Tugger to enjoy some attention from his fan club or gleefully antagonize some of the other toms, and Mistoffelees to play or dance with the kits or quietly speak with the older Jellicles. But this night, Tugger dutifully led him on a short, quiet walk and insisted he rest instead of dance. He even went so far as to shoo away Etcetera and another few queen kits, to their abject horror (and to Bombalurina's quiet fury.)

They stopped briefly to speak with Munkustrap, who lounged on the large tire with Alonzo. The two stayed long enough to catch a bit of junkyard gossip— Alonzo and Cassandra were going through a rough patch, as Cassandra had been hoping to make some kits, but the pair had been unsuccessful so far. Cassandra's disappointment was even greater, as she had hoped for a litter conceived during the Jellicle Ball, and she was taking her frustrations out on her mate. Leaving Munkustrap to comfort the upset tom, Tugger and Mistoffelees moved on.

Some time before dawn, they ended up meandering back to the clearing where Mistoffelees usually went to practice his dancing or his magic in quiet. He loved this clearing; the other Jellicles usually left him alone here, and it had a pleasant aura. Mistoffelees had begun to clue in that his magic left traces of itself wherever he used it, and that he was drawn to that energy as though he was following the scent trail of a rat.

Mistoffelees smiled also as he remembered that night, just a few weeks ago, when Tugger had watched him dance here and so skillfully massaged his hurting legs. At the time, he had been perfectly willing to brush off Tugger's flirting as yet another joke; if only he'd have known what awaited him just a few days later.

Tugger must have been quietly reminiscing as well; he wrapped his arms around his smaller mate as they sat on the warm ground, purring softly.

"You smell good tonight," Tugger murmured, burying his nose in the fur at the back of Mistoffelees' neck.

"Good," Mistoffelees said with a small smile. "I would expect you to tell me if I smelled like a spoiled fish."

"I mean you smell really good." A nuzzle to the scruff of his neck turned into a lick, then a bite that left Mistoffelees shivering in pleasure. "Different, but… so good."

"If I'd have known being sick was such a turn-on, I would have made sure to eat more rotten mice," Mistoffelees said. He laughed breathlessly and arched his back to press himself into Tugger's body, though just as he was beginning to enjoy himself, he felt Tugger go still.

"You don't smell sick, you smell…" He finished with a purr, relaxing against Mistoffelees' back and leaning down to nip at his neck. "Do you feel all right for this?"

"I feel absolutely wonderful," Mistoffelees said. It was true; however bad he'd felt earlier that night, he felt positively energetic now in comparison, and even a wild pollicle couldn't prevent him from enjoying time with his mate tonight.

Mating with Tugger was a languorous, sensual experience. Though Mistoffelees had known much about his friend before their matehood, he'd pointedly avoided asking for any details about Tugger's love life. He'd assumed the older tom to be frenetic and beastly with his partners, and wondered what made him such an idol.

Tugger was definitely physically skilled, knew how to arouse with an expert touch or lick, and was a surprisingly attentive lover—it hadn't taken him long to figure out that biting the scruff of Mistoffelees' neck drove the small tom wild, to name just one. But all that wasn't what made him so renowned: he also possessed the incredible gift of making his partner feel treasured, as though no other cat existed in the entire world.

Their first mating had been frantic, but that had been entirely due to Mistoffelees' strange trancelike state at the Jellicle Ball. In the few weeks since their matehood had begun, they usually mated once a night—sometimes more—and every session left him feeling breathless and sated and so very happy to be Tugger's mate.

"Let's go back to our den," Mistoffelees whispered. And that was another thing; at some point in those few weeks, he'd stopped thinking of it as merely Tugger's den. He practically lived there, and it smelled like both of them. It had become their den.

He made to get up, but Tugger's hand grasped his hips and brought him back down, forcing him into a rocking motion. "We're staying here."

"But-"

"I like you better under the moonlight."

"Flirt," Mistoffelees murmured, turning around to straddle his mate. They kissed as Mistoffelees slowly swiveled his hips, rubbing himself against Tugger. It didn't take much to arouse the other tom, Mistoffelees had found; only a few careful, knowing touches in the right places, a twist of hips here and a bit of gentle clawing there. Inexperienced as he was, he had learned a lot from Tugger since the two had become mates.

Moving away from Tugger's mouth, he leaned in to run his tongue along his mate's jawline, earning a deep, appreciative murmur. Yes, he had learned a lot from Tugger.

Struggling out of his mate's hold, Mistoffelees leaned in to nip at the furry hollow of Tugger's throat, licking lower over the spotted pattern of his chest and through the thick fluff of his mane. He could feel Tugger's growl through the furry chest against his lips, felt Tugger's hands reaching up to pet the back of his head as he nipped his way lower until he was level with his mate's hips. He nosed through the dark fur, heady with the scent of arousal, until his tongue bumped again the thick hardness there.

He lapped slowly and teasingly, delighting in the fact that he even had the ability to make Tugger shiver in pleasure. The low growl became steadily louder, Tugger's fingers wound tighter in his head fur and his hips began to twitch, all familiar signs that he was driving his lover close to the brink.

His licking was halted as Tugger's hands tightened around his head, pulling him up for a kiss and a rough nuzzle. He could feel Tugger breathing in his scent again. "Get on me," Tugger rasped. "Now."

Gleefully obeying, Mistoffelees climbed back up to straddle Tugger's hips again, eagerly lifting his tail as he felt his mate's hands on his rear, caressing and lifting him until—oh—he felt Tugger's organ gently penetrating him. Holding onto Tugger's shoulders for balance, Mistoffelees began to slowly move his hips, up and down, assisted by his mate's hands, still holding onto his rear.

As they rocked together, Mistoffelees felt his mate crush him to his body, nose buried in the thin fur of his neck. Through the haze of his own pleasure, he could feel Tugger frenetically sniffing at him, taking in his scent. Whatever smelled differently about him tonight was certainly setting Tugger off; the more he breathed in, the harder he sent his hips thrusting upwards, shaking Mistoffelees' body and leaving him gasping and growling in ecstasy.

"Hey," Tugger suddenly gasped into his ear. "You're glowing again."

"I am?" Mistoffelees said between halting breaths. He looked down at his arms to see the shimmer over the black fur. The glowing seemed to be happening more and more lately, and without any conscious effort on his part. Before, he could make his fur shimmer as part of his magic; now, it just seemed to happen when he wasn't concentrating.

"Mm," Tugger moaned, burying his nose in the white fur of Mistoffelees' neck. He freed one hand from around Mistoffelees' rear to go caressing between the smaller tom's thighs. "Makes you look beautiful."

"If you say—oh, Tugger!" Mistoffelees suddenly gasped, shivering from head to tail as he came all over Tugger's hand.

He had barely pitched forward to pant into his mate's mane when he was upended onto the ground, his hips grasped with near-bruising force as Tugger continued to thrust inside him for a few more seconds, making his own release with a low growl.

Tugger's dead weight on his own smaller body was an uncomfortable, but still welcome sensation. They purred together for a few minutes until Tugger found the strength to raise himself up and off Mistoffelees, though not before pressing his face to the small tom's neck and deeply inhaling his scent one last time.

"Everlasting, Tugger," Mistoffelees said, still breathless. "Did I roll around in catnip without realizing it?"

Tugger shrugged airily, sprawling himself out beside his mate. "Maybe it's magic. Those sparkles of yours are putting a spell on me, making me do your every bidding."

"My bidding is for you to claim me outside, where any Jellicle could stumble upon us?"

"Yes, and I am powerless in the face of your magic," Tugger said, leaning in to kiss Mistoffelees' neck. He ran a hand along the inside of the smaller tom's thigh, where the black fur was still covered in sparkles.

Mistoffelees sighed at the touch. "So what's my magic bidding you to do now?"

"I am feeling—entirely against my will, I assure you—a strong compulsion to take you back to our den and throw you down on the blankets."

"And go to sleep?"

"Eventually," Tugger said. His energy had returned quickly; he leapt to his feet, bending down to pick up the still-panting Mistoffelees. "We'll see how long the spell lasts."

As Tugger playfully carried him off, Mistoffelees smiled as the clearing disappeared behind them. This place was definitely, he thought, filled with magical energy.


	7. Not So Impossible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **CW for pukey Misto**

"Misto…" Tugger sighed, nervously tugging at his mane. It was rumpled from yet another early wake-up call to sit by his sick mate. "Maybe it's time to get some help."

"I'll be all right," Mistoffelees said weakly. "I'm not sick. I just need to rest for a few moments."

He'd been spared any actual retching on this particular evening, for the moment at least, but still felt too ill to do anything but lie on his side in their den, cradling his stomach. Everlasting! When he'd first gotten sick two weeks ago, running outside the den to hack up in the clay flowerpot, he'd thought it to be an odd, one-off occurrence. He'd eaten something bad; he'd caught a chill somewhere in the junkyard, nothing more than that. But then he'd started waking up most nights with this sickness, and it was starting to take its toll on both him and Tugger.

He had stopped eating mice, thinking that maybe they did something strange to his stomach, but he soon found that rats and fish paste and even milk still made him sick when he woke up. The strangest part was that aside from feeling tired, he usually felt fine a few short hours later, as though he'd never felt bad in the first place. Whatever was afflicting him was a decidedly odd illness.

"Well, you've been spending a lot of time in here resting," Tugger said, emphasizing the last word. Mistoffelees could practically hear him mentally adding, 'and not much else'.

There was that, too; they were mating less frequently. It wasn't that Mistoffelees didn't want it; it was just that he had begun feeling too worn out to enjoy it. Tugger was patient about it, but Mistoffelees couldn't blame him for feeling frustrated. He was feeling quite frustrated with the situation himself. It didn't help that Tugger still found his scent to be completely alluring these days, and as a result was more easily turned on than usual.

With a sigh, Mistoffelees rolled over onto his back, throwing one arm over his eyes to shield them from the dying evening sun, draping the other over his unsettled stomach. "I'll be all right," he said again. "You know this always passes after a while."

"But then it's back the next night," Tugger said glumly. "You should talk to Jennyanydots. Or Jezebel or Jellylorum, any of the older queens. They usually know how to fix things like this. Maybe they have… I don't know, medicine or something."

Mistoffelees rolled his arm off one eye, enough to glare up at his mate, but the gesture soon softened. As much as he hated to admit it, Tugger was right; whatever was afflicting him wasn't about to go away on its own. And he had thought about consulting the older queens, who always seemed so full of advice and tips to keep everyone healthy. But there was another nagging fear: that whatever sickness had hold of him wouldn't be cured with some tea and bed rest.

For one, there was the issue of his fur glowing; it had started happening anywhere, at any time, without any conscious effort on Mistoffelees' part. It certainly wasn't painful or inconvenient, and even seemed to amuse every Jellicle who spotted it, but the fact that he couldn't seem to control it was alarming. He still barely understood his strange magical gift; with no one around to teach him, he had taught himself to cast shadows and make lights change, and if he concentrated very hard, he could make objects float. He could usually make his fur sparkle, when he wanted to. But now the glow seemed to be happening on its own, like his magic was taking control.

And so he wondered if this was his magic making him ill, finally growing too strong, wreaking havoc on his small body. If that was the case, there was nothing Jenny or anyone could do to help. But he had to admit, it would be a relief to find out if he was just sick, and only had to worry about weathering an illness.

"All right," Mistoffelees said quietly, dropping his arm from his eyes. Tugger's look of relief was nearly heartbreaking; it was obvious he was despairing about being useless around his ill mate. "As soon as I can stand up, I'll go talk to the queens."

"Good," Tugger murmured. Satisfied, the Maine coon settled down beside Mistoffelees, giving him a few licks to his head fur.

"Are you going to lie there and stare at me until I get up?" the small tom asked.

"Only if you promise not to hack up on me."

***

It took another good hour before Mistoffelees felt well enough to be up and about. It wasn't considered a strange sight anymore for him and Tugger to stumble out of their shared den at a later hour than everybody else; most Jellicles simply assumed that the two were indulging in a little post wake-up mating. Tugger didn't seem to mind the rumors, especially since they weren't hurting his reputation one bit, though it was clear to Mistoffelees that he wished some actual mating was going on as well.

Mistoffelees decided to speak with Jenny, if only because he felt closer to her than to the other two mature queens of the tribe. He had feared that Tugger would insist on coming along, but he had managed to shoo away his mate with enough ease, leaving him to wander around the junkyard on his own and maybe bask in a bit of adoring-queen attention. They certainly hadn't given up their fervent pursuit of their beloved Tugger, even though it was clear he was off-limits, but as long as all paws stayed where he could see them, he was fine with letting Tugger have his bit of fun.

At least it gave Mistoffelees a bit of much-needed solitude every once in a while, more than ever in a time like this.

He found Jennyanydots quickly enough; she was sitting just outside her den, crocheting some yarn into a sort of blanket and throwing the occasional glance towards Pouncival and Tumblebrutus, who playfully wrestled some distance away.

Jenny gave him a wide smile as she spotted him. "Mistoffelees, hello! How are you?"

"Actually, Jenny," Mistoffelees said. He glanced towards the tussling toms, grateful that they hadn't spotted him. The last thing he needed was more attention. "Could I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course, dear!" Jenny said. She rose to her feet and draped the half-finished blanket over an upturned basket, leading Mistoffelees into her den. "Come inside here, it's quieter. Now what's on your mind? Is it about you and Rum Tum Tugger? Do you need advice about anything?"

Trust the motherly queen to get right to the juicy details. Mistoffelees nearly smiled. A lot of the Jellicles had been curious about the details of his union with Tugger (and in the case of Etcetera, a little too interested in the intimate details.) He knew the older queens had been dying for some gossip.

"No, it's nothing to do with Tugger at all," Mistoffelees said. "I've been feeling a bit sick lately, so I was wondering if I could ask for some help."

"You poor thing!" Jenny said. She made him sit on an oversized knitted pillow and immediately felt his face, nuzzling him gently before pressing her cheek to his. "Good, you don't seem to have a fever. What's been troubling you?"

"Well, I've been feeling sick to my stomach."

"Oh my, vomiting too?" Jenny asked. At Mistoffelees' slight, embarrassed nod, she added, "Have you eaten anything untoward? Anything spoiled? Some of the rats carry mean little bugs."

"I don't think it's what I've been eating, really," Mistoffelees said. "It just happens when I wake up."

Jenny held his face in her paws, turning his head this way and that. "You don't look too unwell, though you certainly look as though you could use a good nap. When did you start feeling like this?"

"Maybe a few weeks ago."

Jenny's mouth was pressed in a hard line. "So, would this be after you began mating with Tugger?"

"Jenny!" Mistoffelees said, blushing hotly. "What could Tugger have to do with this? He isn't making me sick."

"Of course not," Jenny said, taking the sting out of her implied accusation by gently patting the small tom on the head. "But it helps to look at all possibilities. The two of you have been in… close contact. He may have given you something contagious without meaning to."

"Then wouldn't Tugger be sick too?"

Jenny smiled, leaning down to nuzzle him again. "These things can happen in odd ways. I remember when Munkustrap was a kitten, and he ended up catching-"

She froze mid-sentence, her whiskers twitching agitatedly against Mistoffelees' face. "What?" he asked, alarmed at her reaction. "What is it?"

She didn't immediately respond, but Mistoffelees could feel her urgently sniffing at his neck and then his chest. "J… Jenny?"

The queen finally pulled away; she had a look in her eyes that was everything from stern to confused, leaving Mistoffelees more than a little anxious at what her examination had uncovered. "What's wrong with me?"

"I… er… nothing's wrong, Mistoffelees. Would you stay here and rest for a moment? I'll be right back."

Jenny was out of her den and gone before Mistoffelees could argue. Sitting back on the pillow, he lifted a paw to his nose and tried to detect a change in his own scent. Nothing seemed different to him; but then again, Tugger had definitely been reacting to a change in his scent. Maybe he was seriously ill.

Growing restless and anxious, Mistoffelees had nearly resolved to leave Jenny's den and go searching for her when he heard a shuffling by the entrance, and urgent, hushed voices. Now concerned and curious, Mistoffelees quietly padded over to the entrance, just close enough so he could hear what all the commotion was about. He could discern Jenny's voice, and as he got a little closer Jezebel's shriller voice cut above the rest.

"—gone soft in the head, you have, Jenny! You do realize what you just suggested?"

"Why?" Jenny huffed indignantly. "Why do you assume it's impossible? You're old enough to know, Jezebel, that this tribe has seen too many astonishing, miraculous things to count! Why is this any different?"

"Well," Jellylorum interjected softly. "He is a tom. Don't you find that disconcerting? Maybe even a little disturbing?"

Disturbing? What could be disturbing about him being sick? Was he dying? Mistoffelees frowned and edged closer, so he could peek between the folds of the cloth which covered the entrance of Jenny's den. The three queens were huddled closely together as they continued their animated discussion.

"Perplexing, yes," Jenny relented. "And if it were any other tom, I would think the Everlasting Cat was playing some very strange tricks on us. But… well, it makes some sense, doesn't it? He's always been a special one."

"That's if you're correct about this," Jezebel cut in. "The simplest explanation is that you're mistaken, my dear."

"You think I don't recognize the scent? Really, now!"

"He's so young, still," Jellylorum said. "Does he suspect, at all?"

Jenny shook her head. "Goodness, no. Why would he? I wouldn't have suspected either, if I hadn't smelled him myself."

Jezebel still looked quite dubious. Jellylorum, for her part, gave a tired sigh and said, "I have to confess, Jenny, I find this whole idea very strange. If you're right, this is going to take a lot of getting used to."

"And how do you think he's going to feel? The little one's going to need some kindness, so please, if we could just-"

"Excuse me," Mistoffelees interrupted, stepping out from his hiding spot near the den entrance. He couldn't help it; the queens' bizarrely cryptic conversation had terrified him. "What's going on?"

Jezebel and Jellylorum immediately hushed and stared at him; Jellylorum, with large, surprised eyes, and Jezebel, with a narrowed, suspicious gaze.

"Hello, dear," Jellylorum said, looking nervously from Jenny to Mistoffelees. "Jenny tells us you haven't been feeling well?"

"Misto, get back inside," Jenny quickly urged, pushing him inside the den to sit on the pillow again and motioning for the other two queens to follow them in. Before Mistoffelees could respond or protest, Jenny urged the other two forward with a whispered, "His scent. Go on, tell me what you think."

Jellylorum had a puzzled frowned between her eyes as she leaned over the small tom, nuzzling him gently before sniffing him much as Jenny had earlier. At first she had not much reaction, but suddenly she tensed, drawing back to look at Mistoffelees, stunned. On his other side, Jezebel had barely begun smelling the side of his head when she too drew back and gave him astonished look.

"No," Jezebel breathed. "This is just not possible!"

"You see?" Jenny said from behind the queens. There was a hint of smugness to her tone. "You smell it too. I knew I was right."

"Yes, but… but how-?" Jellylorum asked. She was staring at Mistoffelees and looked as though she was trying not to smile, to his continued puzzlement.

"As I told you, he's been getting sick to his stomach," Jenny said, and Jellylorum cocked her head, as though somehow it made sense. "And this all started after he began mating with Tugger, as you would guess."

"Hm," Jezebel said, giving him a long hard look. "Bizarre as it is, that explains some of it. Not all of it, mind you."

"What?" Mistoffelees said, feeling dangerously close to panic. The queens were toying with him and he did not like it one bit. "Will you please tell me what's wrong with me? What's wrong with my scent?"

The three queens exchanged some very knowing looks. It was Jenny who first spoke up again, her eyes twinkling. "Mistoffelees, my dear… you smell like an expecting queen."

"I… I what?" Mistoffelees stammered. What were they implying? He certainly hadn't been cavorting around with any queens! "Why do I smell like…? I haven't been around any queens. Is anyone in the tribe expecting?"

Jellylorum finally gave up her efforts to restrain her smile. "The scent is coming from you. Jenny is right; it seems you're pregnant, love."

Everlasting Cat, now they had to be toying with him. Some things were just impossible. He was a tom, for goodness' sake, and certainly not looking to be pregnant! If he smelled funny, there had to be another, perfectly reasonable explanation.

"You must be mistaken," Mistoffelees said flatly. He rose from the pillow; it was starting to get stuffy in the den, he needed air.

"Well, really," Jezebel said, whiskers twitching indignantly. "Do you know how many kits we've had, between the three of us? We know a pregnant cat when we smell one."

"But that's…" Mistoffelees whispered. He pressed a shaking hand to his face, suddenly feeling weak; his own voice began to sound thin in his ears and he swayed where he stood. "I can't be… I-I'm not…"

"Oh dear," he heard one of the queens say. It sounded like Jellylorum; it was hard to tell as his head spun. "Let's just lay him down here for a moment…"

He was barely conscious of at least two pairs of hands taking hold of him, carrying him over to lie on something soft. Jenny's bed, no doubt. Mistoffelees covered his face with trembling hands, breathing with difficulty as the urge to hack up returned in full force.

Jenny was at his side, gently petting his ears; thankfully, the other two queens were keeping their distance, trying not to crowd him, though Jellylorum took a careful step forward to hand Jenny an empty ceramic bowl.

"Take deep breaths," Jenny said softly. "Do you feel like you might—oh my."

Mistoffelees made a blind fumble for the bowl and Jenny held it up just in time for him to be sick in it. He coughed and sputtered pitifully for a few moments as Jenny continued to gently rub his head, holding up the receptacle with a steady hand until it was clear he was finished.

"S-sorry," Mistoffelees said; it came out as more of a whimper. This was too much to process; he'd never even planned on getting a queen pregnant, and most certainly hadn't intended to try it out himself!

He had to admit that a tiny, rational part of his mind insisted that it made sense—it explained his odd illness, his altered scent that drove Tugger wild, all going back to his trancelike state at the Jellicle Ball and… Everlasting. Maybe they were right.

"Here, some water," Jezebel said, taking the bowl away and pressing a small cup into Jenny's hands. "It'll help him clear his head."

With Jenny's help, he sat up and took a small drink of the water, grateful as it seemed to help calm his stomach. He couldn't help but move gingerly, now that he was aware that there were kittens inside him. Shouldn't he be able to feel them? Shouldn't he have known somehow, felt differently, aside from just hacking up anything he ate before bed?

"There we are, just relax," Jenny said soothingly. "I understand this is overwhelming."

"Overwhelming!" Mistoffelees said. He pressed a shaking hand to his mouth. "Toms aren't meant to… to be pregnant!"

"Well, they certainly aren't supposed to be," Jezebel sniffed, hands on her hips. At Jenny's warning look, she softened her tone somewhat. "But this is clearly a very unusual situation, Misto. Did you do anything to make these kits? Aside from the obvious, of course."

It sounded close enough to an accusation that Mistoffelees moaned softly and covered his face with his hands. He was already confused and upset and being berated wasn't helping. No, he hadn't wanted to make kits; all he'd done was mate with Tugger, and now felt horribly humiliated that these queens were asking about his personal life in such a way.

Jenny gave a small cough. "Yes, well, I'm intensely curious about that as well. Toms aren't usually able to make kittens of their own, you know."

"I know," Mistoffelees whimpered. He peeked out from between his fingers; Jellylorum was still intently staring at him, while Jezebel's look continued to imply that he'd done something wrong. "I-I think it happened at the Jellicle Ball. I'm almost sure of it. I started to feel strange, like the Jellicle Moon was taking control of my magic, and… I felt as though I had to find Tugger, and…" He went quiet and flushed hotly with embarrassment as the queens began to murmur in agreement.

"I knew there was magic in the air this year!" Jellylorum said.

"Magic, and the Rum Tum Tugger," Jezebel said, smirking broadly. "That would be enough to explain any kittens, even in a tom."

"I'm sorry," Mistoffelees breathed, though he wasn't quite sure what he had to apologize about. He didn't want any of them to be mad at him and while Jenny seemed giddy enough about the situation, the other two still seemed a little guarded. "I know this shouldn't be happening. Is that why they've been making me sick?"

"Oh no," Jezebel said. "That happens to any pregnant cat. If you wanted to see what it was like to have kittens, well, you'll get to enjoy the pains of it too."

"Enough now, please," Jenny gently admonished. "Mistoffelees, sweet dear, I don't know much about how your magic works, but obviously it had something to do with these kits being made in these rather… extraordinary circumstances. Maybe even the Everlasting Cat had something to do with it."

"I don't know," Mistoffelees sighed. "J-Jenny... I didn't want any of this to happen. I really don't think Tugger did either. I don't know what's going to happen now."

"Oh, come now," Jenny said, reaching up to pet his ears again. "Everything will be all right; kittens are always welcome in our tribe. And dear Tugger will just have to learn that there are consequences to indiscriminate mating."

"You know, I don't think dear innocent Tugger ever planned for something like this to happen," Jezebel said, tittering softly into her hand.

"I'm just surprised it took him this long to finally sire some kits," Jellylorum said with a grin. "Wait until Gus hears about this."

"No, no!" Mistoffelees cried. "Don't tell anyone! Not until I've talked to Tugger. Please."

"For goodness' sake, of course we won't tell anyone!" Jenny said, appalled. "But—well, you may want to tell him as soon as possible. We're not the only ones who'll recognize your scent right away. It will only get stronger as the kittens keep growing."

Mistoffelees nodded, putting a hand to his forehead; the dizziness was threatening to come back as Jenny's words sunk in: kittens. Growing. Looking down at his furry, flat abdomen, he quietly said, "I don't feel the kits. Shouldn't I be able to feel them in there?"

"Oh goodness, not yet!" Jenny laughed softly. "They're much too small, dear. They don't even have paws and tails yet."

"When they start moving around, you'll know it," Jellylorum said. "It feels like mice skittering around under your fur."

Mistoffelees did his best to not look horrified at the thought.

"Now, once you've told Tugger and the two of you have had time to digest this, you'll need to come back and see me," Jenny said, giving him a hand up and off the bedding, making sure he was steady on his feet. "Having kits is a very important and major thing and we have a lot of things to discuss."

"It's not frightening," Jellylorum said, soothingly petting his shoulder. "It feels wonderful, you'll see. But you'll need plenty of rest. Growing kits is a tiring endeavor."

"And plenty of food, when you can manage it," Jezebel added. The initial shock had seemingly worn off and all three were now in full motherly mode. "When the kits grow bigger stomachs, they won't make you hack up all the time."

"And plenty of water."

"And take it easy with the mating, at least for now."

"All right, I think Mistoffelees has enough advice for the moment," Jenny said, laughing as she nuzzled the blanching tom. "Now go on, and be with your mate right now. The two of you are going to have a lot to talk about!"

"Thank you, Jenny," Mistoffelees said weakly. He nodded towards the other two queens, who were smiling broadly and watching him move towards the entrance of Jenny's den. "And you two as well."

They were going to have one massive gossip session the second he left, Mistoffelees could tell. But really, could he blame them? This didn't even come close to the mild shock of him and Tugger becoming mates. This was… bordering on the impossible.

He needed to find Tugger now, though he hadn't the faintest idea how to announce this particular piece of news. When queens became pregnant, it always seemed like such a happy event, something to be joyfully announced to their mates and then shared with the entire tribe. It was happy news; but he couldn't even tell if he himself was happy about it.

As he walked across the junkyard, first passing Tumblebrutus and Pouncival, and then Alonzo, he was terrified that they suddenly knew, could tell that he was pregnant, could smell him coming from miles away. He prayed that he wouldn't run into Coricopat or Tantomile; they always seemed to know more than anyone else. Would they know right away that he was pregnant? Had they known since the Jellicle Ball? Even more troubling, would they also be able to tell that he didn't particularly want to be pregnant?

It was all he could do to keep himself from running back to Tugger's den, crawling beneath the blankets, and hope that this would end up being one long, strange dream.

Tugger was easy to find, once Mistoffelees picked up his scent. He found that his mate had commandeered the large tire in the centre of the junkyard and now comfortably reclined on top of it, letting his legs dangle off the edge.

Electra playfully batted at his hanging feet, while Etcetera hung from the edge of the tire, giggling at something Tugger was saying. Bombalurina leaned against the tire, trying to look alluring without looking as though she was trying. Though when she saw Mistoffelees approach, she had the good grace to look a little ashamed at her flirting with an unavailable tom.

The young queens, as always, looked positively overjoyed at his arrival. Mistoffelees wondered if maybe their interest in Tugger had heightened after they learned he'd taken a tom as a mate. Etcetera, for her part, always seemed excited to possibly catch them in a kiss or an embrace. Mistoffelees wondered why she found the thought so appealing.

Tugger sat up and smiled charmingly at the sight of his mate, no longer paying a whit of attention the queens lounging around him. Rather than fill Mistoffelees with happiness or relief, it left him bristling.

"Hi Misto!" Etcetera said. "Will you come dance with us?"

Mistoffelees nodded politely at her as a greeting, but he didn't trust himself to speak. It wasn't fair that Tugger could just wile away the night without a care. Not when Mistoffelees had to deal with what the three busy queens had revealed to him. He still hadn't made sense of the thoughts and emotions running through his head and right now, the sight of the carelessly lounging Tugger surrounded by the young queens only filled him with anger.

Mistoffelees couldn't help it; he glared hard at his lover, tail whipping furiously, and turned away, heading towards their shared den.

He heard Electra calling after him, then Tugger calling out his name, but he steadfastly ignored them all. He needed to be alone right now.

Pushing his way into the den, Mistoffelees sat in a tight little curl on their blankets and sighed glumly. He was alone now, but he wasn't, really. These little kits were going to follow him around for a while. They were going to keep growing inside him, and everyone would be able to see it, and it was going to feel like mice crawling around under his fur, and after that the kittens would be ready to-

"Mistoffelees!" Tugger said. He stomped into the den and stood above his mate with an irritated huff. "What's with you? Nothing was happening out there."

"I know," Mistoffelees said, tonelessly.

"You hurt the queens' feelings. We were just talking. Flirting, like always. I wasn't doing anything with them."

"I know, Tugger," Mistoffelees said; his voice had begun to crack and he clasped a hand over his mouth. He was humiliatingly close to tears, his head still spinning with all this new information. He needed more time to process this before telling Tugger.

Tugger, for his part, was still standing uselessly, trying to puzzle out exactly what he had just done wrong. "Did… did Jenny say you were sick? Are you mad because I wasn't there?"

"I'm not sick."

"Then what's got your fur in a snit? You're acting like a bratty kitten."

That did it. Mistoffelees' ears flattened and he glared daggers at his mate. "Get out, Tugger."

"This is my den."

" _Get out!_ "

With an irritated growl, Tugger threw up his hands and marched out of the den, leaving an upset Mistoffelees behind. The small tom felt dangerously close to tears again as he curled up on the blankets and closed his eyes with a shaky sigh.

Everlasting Cat. How were they ever going to handle this?


	8. One Step at a Time

Tugger stalked out of his den, panting furiously. It wasn't like Mistoffelees to act jealous, or to be angry without cause, but Tugger certainly wasn't about to stick around and continue to be berated by his upset mate, no matter the cause of the upset.

So just what had brought on all that anger? Things had been fine earlier that night; he and Mistoffelees had parted on pleasant terms, and the only thing that had changed was that Mistoffelees was meant to drop by Jenny's den and see if she could do anything to help settle his stomach.

Tugger growled to himself. Of course, Jenny must have said something about him. It wouldn't surprise him that the older queens thought he was a bad influence; they spent enough time telling him to straighten up and fly right. And now they'd probably suggested that he was making his own mate sick, somehow, when Tugger was all but driving himself sick with worry.

He hated seeing Mistoffelees so weak, he hated that there was nothing he could do to fix it, and now he hated that he'd apparently done something dire to upset the small tom, and couldn't begin to imagine what it was.

He stalked past the tire at the centre of the junkyard and past the young queens he'd left earlier, ignoring their concerned pleas and inquiries, and continued on so blindly through the paths and scrap piles that he nearly crashed into a rather stunned Munkustrap.

"Tugger? Hey-!"

A firm hand on his shoulder made him stop, though he was still huffing in anger as he met his brother's eyes. "What's going on?" Munkustrap asked, frowning. "Where are you heading?"

"It's Mistoffelees!" Tugger yelled, then lowered his voice as the young queens in the distance turned their ears to him. He didn't exactly need to broadcast their drama across the junkyard. "He's angry at me, Everlasting knows why. He's acting like… like a jilted queen."

Munkustrap gave him a pointed look. He looked a lot like Demeter when he did that. "Tugger, I warned you. What did you do to him?"

"Oh yes, brilliant!" Tugger said, throwing his hands up. "Let's just assume Tugger is in the wrong. Tugger likes preying on the hearts of his fellow Jellicles, right? It couldn't possibly be that Mistoffelees is the one acting like a jerk!"

Munkustrap sighed. "Calm down already. Where is he now?"

"In my den. Out of which I was just chased!"

Ignoring his brother's histrionics, Munkustrap glanced in the direction from which Tugger had stomped. "Something doesn't seem right. Let me go talk to him and find out what's got him upset with you. If you're quite sure you didn't do anything to cause an argument."

Tugger's tail lashed out in irritation. It was getting old, this constant belief that if anyone was to blame for anything, it had to be him. He wasn't callous and he certainly wasn't about to start upsetting Mistoffelees for no reason.

"Munk," Tugger said. "I didn't do anything, I swear. I'm just worried about him."

"I know you are," Munkustrap said, softening his tone. "Look, how about you go take a walk somewhere and cool off? And stay out of trouble."

Tugger nodded somberly and watched Munkustrap carefully pad over to his den and disappear into the entrance crack. He should have been irritated at the thought of his brother, ever the tribe protector, meddling in his personal life, but at the moment he wasn't sure what else to do. Having a mate should have been fun, simple; especially a mate who was able to hold his own against Tugger's wit and cocky manner. No one else but Mistoffelees had been able to give him such a wonderful challenge and he loved having the small tom around him for that.

He'd been proud to claim Mistoffelees as his own, and things had been wonderful, but with Mistoffelees being sick, and now with this strange quarrel, he wasn't sure what to make of things.

He hated this. He hated that he wasn't the one trying to fix things with his mate. He just hoped nothing was too serious with Mistoffelees, and that things would just return to normal soon enough.

In the distance, Etcetera tentatively waved at him with a worried frown, evidently wondering if he was going to join the small group again. With a frustrated sigh, Tugger turned tail and walked off in the opposite direction; it was a rare event, but the last thing he wanted right now was anybody's attention.

***

Once Tugger's angry footsteps faded away from the den, Mistoffelees opened his eyes.

He felt guilty for chasing his mate away, especially since Tugger had no clue what was happening, but he didn't feel up to a difficult conversation at the moment. The news of his pregnancy was still whirling through his mind, leaving him weak and dizzy from thinking about all the implications.

A flurry of questions kept assaulting his mind- How many kits are we going to have- What are they going to look like- How am I supposed to carry and birth kits when I'm a tom- Will the den be large enough- What are they going to eat- What if they're all toms and grow up to become like Tugger?

He had managed to keep from crying, and that was something, at least. He hadn't cried since he was a kit.

Uncurling himself from the blankets, Mistoffelees sat up and straightened his back. He held his breath and—something he had avoiding doing until that moment—reached down to place a hand over his stomach.

Did it seem rounder? He could have sworn it did, even though Jenny said the kittens were too small right now. He'd seen pregnant queens around the junkyard a few times before and recalled how they looked—so big and round. How big was he supposed to get? As much as he tried to shrug off the teasing from the other young toms, he had to admit that he was rather small for a tom. Would a whole litter of kittens be able to fit inside him?

Everlasting Cat. The realization was hitting again; he was going to have kits. What did he know about caring for kits? Even worse, what did Tugger know?

"Mistoffelees?"

It was Munkustrap's voice, calm and soothing, as he peeked in through the crack of the den. The tabby treaded softly inside to reach Mistoffelees, as though he were approaching a startled mouse. "Are you all right?"

For a horrible moment, Mistoffelees was convinced that Munkustrap knew. The queens would have had a hard time keeping the news of his condition to themselves; one of them had surely snuck out, told everyone. Told Munkustrap, at the very least.

"Did… Jenny say anything?" Mistoffelees asked in a tiny voice.

"Jenny?" Munkustrap said. "No, I just bumped into Tugger. He looked pretty upset. I just came to see if you were all right."

Mistoffelees couldn't, wouldn't meet the older tom's eyes just yet. He did move over on the blankets, a wordless invitation that Munkustrap accepted, sitting down next to him and waiting for an answer. It left Mistoffelees feeling foolish and childish, like a kit having to be coaxed into a proper adult conversation.

"Munkustrap," Mistoffelees said after a few moments of silence. "Did Tugger tell you exactly what happened on the night of the Jellicle Ball?"

Munkustrap smiled ruefully. "He spared me the lurid details, for once."

"Something unusual happened," Mistoffelees said. He began nervously picking at the top blanket, a dark green fleece that was Tugger's favorite. "It was like the Jellicle Moon had taken control of me, like it had taken control of my magic. Tugger didn't seduce me; I went to find him and practically jumped on him. Don't get me wrong, I was happy that it led to us becoming mates, but… "

"That's not so unusual," Munkustrap said. "A lot of cats go into a trance at the Ball. Really, it's nothing to worry about."

"That's not all that happened that night."

He was confusing Munkustrap, he could tell, but the tabby was patiently waiting to see where this particular train of thought was going to lead. With a sigh, Mistoffelees pulled his claws from the blanket, leaning into Munkustrap.

"Munkustrap… would you smell me, please?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Tell me if you notice anything strange."

Though puzzled, Munkustrap did as requested. He briefly nuzzled Mistoffelees' cheek before smelling his fur for a few moments. It occurred to Mistoffelees that Munkustrap wouldn't recognize the scent, since Demeter had not yet carried kits, but he needed to know from an impartial party if something was off.

Munkustrap drew back slightly, giving him a curious look. "Your scent is different," he said. "And somewhat familiar, but I can't quite place it." After an awkward pause, he quietly added, "You do smell good, though."

Mistoffelees couldn't help but smile. "That's what Tugger keeps saying."

"Is that why the two of you had an argument?"

"I went to see Jenny earlier tonight," Mistoffelees said. Once again he started anxiously digging his claws into the green fleece. "I haven't been feeling well lately. She brought in Jellylorum and Jezebel. They all agreed that… I smelled as though I was pregnant."

There was a lengthy, heavy silence, during which the small tom could feel Munkustrap blinking at him, dumbfounded.

"Oh," the protector finally said. "Wait, so… Mistoffelees, you're… you're pregnant?"

"I'm not sure," Mistoffelees said in a thin voice. "I think so."

Munkustrap shifted about a bit awkwardly. Of all the things he had expected to find by coming into Tugger's den, Mistoffelees mused, this was surely not one of them. From the corner of his eye, Mistoffelees could see the tabby's gaze dart up and down his body, as though he had just realized the implication and was trying to see any outward sign that he was carrying kits.

"I didn't know you could… er…"

"I didn't know either," Mistoffelees hastily said.

"Come to think of it," Munkustrap said with an uncomfortable cough. "You do smell like Jenny did before she had her last litter. She used to visit Demeter a lot, it was hard not to notice her scent…"

"So you think I'm pregnant too?" Mistoffelees asked. "You think Jenny and the others are right about this?"

"I think…" Munkustrap began, then hesitated for a few uneasy moments. He scratched at his ear for a bit, evidently unsure about this whole conversation. "They wouldn't be wrong about something like that, no matter how strange it may sound. And they certainly wouldn't lie about it."

"I know," Mistoffelees said. His voice was beginning to crack again. He didn't want to sound this weak, but all of this was rapidly wearing on him. "I know it's true, I just… I don't want… it's… it's…"

And that was it. His careful self-control was quickly fraying and he couldn't help the strangled sob that escaped his throat. Burying his face in Munkustrap's shoulder, he began to cry.

Munkustrap's arms went around, a little awkwardly—surely he wasn't used to crying toms. Crying pregnant toms, no less. Well, that made two of them.

It did feel nice to cry, to release the whirlwind of emotions he had gathered since earlier that night. After a few minutes of that, it became easier for him to reign in his emotions, comforted by Munkustrap's presence, as much as he wished that Tugger were here instead.

Drawing in trembling breaths, Mistoffelees rubbed at the tear tracks on his cheeks and sighed when Munkustrap nuzzled his head to help him calm down.

"You, er, haven't told Tugger yet, I imagine?" Munkustrap asked.

Mistoffelees shook his head against the furry shoulder. "Are you angry at me about this?"

Munkustrap tensed at the question. "Angry? Shocked, yes—though I can't imagine how Tugger's going to feel—but why would I be angry?"

"This isn't… natural. I've created something strange in the tribe. I'm afraid others are… are going to be upset with me."

"Well, it is strange," Munkustrap admitted. "But no one's going to be upset with you for being pregnant. Though they are going to wonder just how you managed to do this."

"Jenny thinks my magic did it," Mistoffelees said shakily. "I thought… I always thought it was good for little illusions, you know? I can change the lights, and sometimes I can make a spoon float—but those are tricks. This… this is real magic. I shouldn't be able to do something like this."

"Your magic's always been real, Misto," Munkustrap gently said. "It seems you can do a lot more with it than you realized."

"But to make kittens appear out of thin air! This is… this is so big!"

Munkustrap chuckled softly. "It's hardly thin air, is it? You and Tugger made the kittens, exactly like every other Jellicle does, magic or not."

"It's not exactly like every other Jellicle does it," Mistoffelees sighed. He noticed Munkustrap was still chuckling to himself. "What's so funny?"

"Some things you just never expect to see happen."

"Like a tom becoming pregnant?"

"I meant Tugger becoming a father," Munkustrap said. "I never imagined he would get the privilege before me. It seems you have been a good influence on him."

"At least you'll get to be an uncle first," Mistoffelees said. He smiled and slid out of the other tom's embrace to sit up straight on the blanket pile. He had expected revulsion or rejection and was relieved at Munkustrap's reaction. "That makes us family now, doesn't it?"

"We were always family, Misto," Munkustrap said. At once, he leapt back into comfortable territory, ever the protector of the Jellicles. "Now, do you need anything? Food, water? I can bring you a mouse if you're hungry."

Mistoffelees shook his head, dabbing at his cheeks with the back of his hand. "What I need is to have words with Tugger."

"I can bring you that, too," Munkustrap grinned.

"Just don't carry him by the tail," Mistoffelees with a small breathless laugh. "He's a bit bigger than a mouse."

"No promises," Munkustrap said, nuzzling him quickly before rising to his feet. Before leaving the den, he added, "I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you, Misto, but… we are family, and Demeter and I will help in any way we can."

"Thank you," Mistoffelees said. He was mostly thankful that Munkustrap then turned and left; he didn't trust himself not to start crying again at the show of tenderness, and he would prefer to look calm and composed before sharing this unconventional bit of news with Tugger. All of this carrying kits business was making him strangely emotional.

Hoping that Munkustrap would take his time tracking down Tugger, Mistoffelees wearily laid himself out on the blankets. Jenny was right; he really did need a good nap. The moment he closed his eyes, he fell into a light doze.

Images of kittens kept bouncing before his eyes; tiny little balls of fur, some of which looked like miniature versions of himself, others like Tugger. They spun around and danced, jumping every which way, and Mistoffelees tried to reach for them, to keep them from jumping too much and getting hurt.

The kittens squirmed just out of reach whenever he got close enough, giving him mischievous little smiles and continuing to leap around the den. A few began to scratch at the walls of the den and Mistoffelees decided it was not something that young kits should be allowed to do…

… at least until he was roused from his light slumber by a scratching sound which had not come from the dream-kittens, but from Tugger warily shuffling his way back into the den.

At the sight of his mate lying on the blankets, Tugger stopped and stood a bit ruefully, but still cautiously prideful.

"Sorry," Tugger said evenly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine," Mistoffelees said. He yawned greatly and stretched himself out before sitting up on the blankets. He hadn't wanted to start this conversation by snoring in Tugger's face, but the few minutes of rest had felt good. "I'm glad you came back."

"Well," Tugger said. He stood towering over his mate, hands firmly planted on hips. "I'm glad Munkustrap was able to talk some sense into you. Now are you going to tell me what's going on? If I did something to upset you, you're going to have to tell me, because I don't know what it is."

There wasn't much use in pussyfooting around; Tugger always liked to get to the point of things, something Mistoffelees had begun to pick up from him. Besides, it was best to get it over with before he lost his courage.

Drawing in a quick breath, he locked eyes with his mate. "I'm pregnant, Tugger."

He had to admit that Tugger's reaction was borderline comical. His face remained stock-still, though his eyes shrunk to slits as he stared down at Mistoffelees, then darted about the den, as though he was trying to decide if this was all some elaborate joke at his expense.

"No," Tugger finally said, grinning wide. "Look, I know I'm good. But I'm not that good. You're a tom. Aren't you?"

Mistoffelees gave an irritated eye-roll. "Of course I'm a tom."

"Then that settles it," Tugger said. After a moment of icy silence, and the gradual realization that his mate wasn't kidding, his grin faltered and he added a tentative, "Right?"

"I went to see Jenny earlier tonight," Mistoffelees said. "She said I smelled like a pregnant queen."

"Obviously, Jenny's gotten into Skimble's scotch."

"Jellylorum and Jezebel both agreed with her."

"Mass hysteria?"

"And Munkustrap also…"

"All right!" Tugger moaned. He huffed and began pacing the den like a caged beast. "Wait, you told Munk before you told me? Forget it, it doesn't matter. But, are you sure about this? Really sure?"

"I've been feeling strange," Mistoffelees said. "I've been hacking up. That's what happens to pregnant cats."

"Mungojerrie hacked up after drinking that sour milk last month, and he wasn't pregnant," Tugger said. He'd begun pulling at the fine, fluffy edges of his mane, a habit of his when he became nervous.

"Weren't you wondering how come my scent had changed?" Mistoffelees asked. Tugger's obvious anxiety was doubling his own, and he didn't like the way the bigger tom seemed to be poised to run. "And would you please come sit down?"

"I'm comfortable standing."

"I don't want to have this discussion with you looming over me."

It was a small victory that Tugger obeyed, plopping down rather ungracefully on the blankets next to his mate. He still had a stunned, wary look about him. "Please tell me you know how this happened."

"No, I don't know how it happened," Mistoffelees said with a weary sigh. He pulled the corner of the green fleece into his lap again and picked at it; he needed something to do with his nerves, something to save him from having to meet Tugger's eyes. "It just did."

"These things don't just happen," Tugger said, dazed. "Not to a tom."

"They do when you're around."

"Oh, this isn't my fault!" Tugger huffed indignantly. "I didn't know you could have kittens! If I'd have known, I would have…"

Now it was Mistoffelees' turn to be indignant. "What? What would you have done? Not taken me as a mate?"

"Of course I would have!"

"Would you have rejected me when I came to you at the Jellicle Ball?"

"Misto, you're being ridic—wait, that's when it happened, right?" Tugger asked. "At the Ball? I was wondering why you were so… energetic."

Mistoffelees nodded glumly. "Obviously something odd happened on that night. I think my magic had something to do with it—had something to do with making these kittens. I don't know for certain. But it's done now, and my magic gave us something we need to deal with."

It seemed to take a few moments for Tugger to digest the information. Mistoffelees could feel him shifting uncomfortably, casting him quick, hesitant glances. He only hoped Tugger wasn't also glancing towards the den's exit and formulating a plan of retreat.

"Then you're serious about this?"

"Do you want to tell Jenny and the other queens they're wrong?"

"No, I like my hide, thank you," Tugger said with a forced, uncomfortable chuckle. "Aren't they wondering how this happened?"

"I think they're just thrilled to have new kittens to spoil, no matter where they come from."

They fell into silence; it wasn't awkward, exactly, just uneasy enough that Mistoffelees felt relieved when his mate spoke up again. "So… you're pregnant."

"It would appear so," Mistoffelees said softly.

"We're going to have kittens."

"That's usually what happens, yes."

"And we're…. certain they're mine?"

"Everlasting Cat, Tugger, if you ever ask me that again-"

"Sorry, sorry," Tugger snorted as he received a well-deserved, teasing swat from his mate. "Point taken. So… what are we supposed to do now?"

"Well…" Mistoffelees said airily. "When you wanted us to become mates, you did say you wanted to see where this would lead. So I suppose we'll just see where this takes us."

"This isn't quite what I had in mind," Tugger said, bemused. "I suppose that's what I get for falling for the strangest, most particular magical Jellicle in the entire tribe."

"I'm sorry," Mistoffelees said. He finally worked up the courage to meet his mate's gaze. Tugger was still looking him over cautiously, but his earlier panic had gone. "Other mates plan for kittens and they always seem so happy. I suppose we should be happy too."

"So, are you?" Tugger asked.

"Are you, Tug?"

"Well, I never thought about having kits," Tugger said. "Wait, scratch that; I've thought of it, but I've never want to. But then again, I never thought about making them with you. And I suppose that's something I wouldn't mind."

Mistoffelees went weak with relief. That was as close to a resounding "yes" from his mate as he was going to get, and it felt as though a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Suddenly exhausted, he sighed and allowed his head to slump against Tugger's shoulder.

"Can I touch you?"

"Since when do you ask permission to touch me?" Mistoffelees muttered, though he didn't object when Tugger reached down and pressed his palm flat against his abdomen. "I suppose we'll have an interesting time figuring out how to raise these kits."

"Hey, one step at a time, please," Tugger said. "I'm still trying to wrap my mind around you being… pregnant." He nearly faltered on the last word. "Doesn't it feel… I don't know, funny?"

"It doesn't feel like anything," Mistoffelees shrugged. He looked down at his flat stomach, where Tugger's hand was still pressed. "According to Jenny, it explains why I've been getting sick and feeling tired. But I can't feel them yet."

It was easy, with Tugger's arms already around him, to snuggle deeper into the furry mane. Tugger was not a cat who liked to simply sit or lie and cuddle, but whenever Mistoffelees could force a few minutes' closeness, he would.

Maybe Tugger understood the need; he wrapped his arms around his mate, nuzzling him, his hand still pressed to the flat belly, as though determined to remain connected to the kits who were still too young to make their presence known. The touch was comforting; Mistoffelees hadn't expected Tugger to take to the idea so well, though he was certainly relieved about it. If his curious, fickle mate could handle this, then maybe he could as well.

"Kittens," Tugger whispered, shaking his head. "This is definitely going to be interesting."

"To say the least."

"As long as they all look like me."

And for the first time that night, Mistoffelees genuinely smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see people leaving kudos and bookmarking and I love you all <3


	9. Whispers in the Air

Though the fire had ravaged through these human buildings quite some times ago, the smell of old, stale smoke was ever-present in the air. Evidences of the fire's passage-scorched wood, smoke-damaged walls all about the area, dead and yellowed vegetation—were still all around.

He didn't mind, and in fact, he found the evidences comforting. Fire was an element he rather liked, and enjoyed the constant reminders of its wrath, of its sheer destructive power. It spoke to the magic that rested beneath his fur and skin, the kind that could call upon the fire to do deep, terrible things with a wave of a paw. Fire wasn't the only thing his magic controlled, but it was the element he preferred. It was simple, and beautiful in its lack of mercy.

Those who owed him grudging loyalty, the ones he kept around him, didn't seem to share his appreciation for the permeating burnt smell. They grumbled and complained, but he paid them no mind. When their whining annoyed him, it was enough to swipe out with thick, gnarled claws, drawing blood, reminding them the price of their ingratitude. If the complaints continued, then he would remind them, with fire and lightning, why it was not wise to test his patience.

He cared little for them, in any case. They were crass, unkempt alley cats with no thoughts of their own, mongrels who wanted a place to live and the occasional scrap of food, and a cat much stronger and wiser than them to order them about and offer them scant protection. They were useful to him for their strength in numbers, and that was the extent of it.

There were too many things they did not understand. Things they couldn't perceive, being no better than bottom-rung strays. Things of which he would never speak to them. It was enough for him to tell them to be quiet, and leave him to his solitude, whenever he had desire of it. The alley cats merely assumed he was 'practicing his magic tricks'.

They were right, in a sense.

He had honed his senses to detect magic in the air. Like a scent trail, like a hunt. Over the years, he had caught the scents here and there, faint promises of magic floating about the air. But whenever he followed the trail to its source, he found nothing but disappointment, time and again. This enraged him. Releasing the fire was a cathartic experience.

But this… ah, this was different. It was like scenting blood, a fresh kill. It was magic, there was no mistaking it. It wasn't faint. After the first day, when he'd initially detected the scent, he spent days climbing scorched surfaces and staring out into the wind, his ugly features twitching in delight as he picked up the sense yet again. It wasn't faint at all. It was growing.

This would prove to be most promising.


	10. Tricks With a Cork

"Well?" Mistoffelees nervously asked. "How many do you-"

"Sshh!" Jenny hissed. "When you speak, I can't hear what's going on in here."

Mistoffelees clamped his mouth shut, though it was difficult not to squirm or vocalize as Jenny kneaded his growing belly and pressed her ear to it, feeling for the shapes of the kittens and listening for anything important. Only a few seemingly short weeks had passed since the discovery that he was carrying kits, and already they had grown so much that there was a visible curve to his stomach.

He didn't think he looked that big, really—maybe just as though he'd eaten a bit too much dinner—but Jellylorum had spotted him the night before, and after seeing how he'd grown, had commented that the kits were either very big, or there were a lot of them, and now he was anxious to find out exactly how many there could be.

The news of the pregnancy had spread quickly throughout the junkyard. Instead of seeking everyone out for an official announcement, Tugger and Mistoffelees had deemed it easier to just tell Jenny, Jellylorum and Jezebel that they were free to speak about it.

Within an hour, every Jellicle knew about the kittens; most had tentatively come knocking by their den to offer congratulations, to incredulously ask if it was true, or just to see what a pregnant tom was like.

There definitely came a change in how the Jellicles acted around him and Tugger. The young queens, with the exception of Bombalurina who had all but gone into mourning at the official loss of her beloved Tugger, had become even more excited to be around their idol and his mate, with the promise of brand-new kits to come. The older cats had been suitably stunned, made quite sure that this wasn't some silly joke or prank, and then embraced the news with enthusiasm.

The only detractors had been the young toms, who now warily stared at Mistoffelees whenever their paths crossed and avoided him as much as possible, especially now that he was visibly expecting.

Tugger, of course, was now gaining an entirely new level of respect, as befitting the cat who broke the laws of nature and managed to impregnate his tom mate. He thoroughly enjoyed his new reputation, and the attention that went alongside it. Well, as long as it deflected a bit of the attention away from him, Mistoffelees was happy.

Mistoffelees was brought back to the present as Jenny's kneading became increasingly uncomfortable. He knew she was trying to count how many shapes she could feel in there, but she had begun pressing into his belly so hard he wondered if the kits were getting squashed.

And then she pressed against something else that was currently being squashed by the kittens, to his dismay. He couldn't help it, and yelped and squirmed uncomfortably under the pressure.

Jenny caught on and removed her hands, to his partial relief, and gently nuzzled his stomach before rising up. "If you think that's bad, wait until the kittens themselves start bouncing around on your bladder," she said with a laugh. "Do you need to go out for a few minutes?"

"I can wait," Mistoffelees said. He gingerly sat up on Jenny's bed, grateful when she offered him a hand. He really did need to go, but there was something even more pressing he wanted first. "So… how many do you think?"

"There's at least six in there," Jenny said. "Most likely seven, but I can't be sure until they're a little bigger."

"Seven!" Mistoffelees cried. He numbly placed a hand over the curve of his belly. Would there even be room for seven kits in there? It already felt so crowded. "I wasn't expecting so many."

"I've got to hand it to Tugger," Jenny said airily. "When he does something, he does it right."

"Everlasting," Mistoffelees moaned in embarrassment, hiding his face at the queen's comment.

"Now don't fret," Jenny tittered. "As far as I can tell, the kittens are a good size and they're growing just fine. If everything keeps going well, they'll be ready to be born by mid-summer. And how have you been feeling, my dear?"

"A little uncomfortable," Mistoffelees admitted. "It's difficult to adjust to the extra, er, weight. My sense of balance has been off."

"Yes, it would be different for you, since you don't have the shape of a queen," Jenny said sympathetically. "And you are rather small, to be carrying such a large litter; I'm afraid the discomfort will increase as the kits grow. I imagine dancing has been difficult?"

Mistoffelees sighed in agreement. He had tried dancing here and there, unwilling to let his skills go to waste even if he was pregnant. It had been easy enough in the beginning, but ever since the kits had begun to grow bigger and show themselves, he had found dancing to be difficult, if not outright dangerous. Just last week, he had attempted a pirouette, which made him lose his precious balance and fall into Tugger's arms. The extra weight also made his back and legs ache, but a bit of attention from Tugger's strong hands helped take those particular pains away.

"Are you still feeling sick to your stomach?" Jenny asked.

"Not so much, but it's difficult to eat sometimes."

She patted his shoulder. "It will pass. It usually does; and then you'll be hungry for rats all the time. Which will be good, since you could stand to put on a bit more weight." All of a sudden, the queen got a terribly innocent look in her eyes. "What about mating? Has it been uncomfortable?"

Mistoffelees averted his gaze, blushing furiously. "I-I… we haven't really… not since we found out…"

"Oh! Well, it's perfectly safe for the kits, as long as you tell Tugger to take it slowly and carefully. In fact, a bit of gentle mating can be quite healthy!"

"Thank you," Mistoffelees mumbled, terribly interested in staring down at his belly again.

"Now, then," Jenny said, with a small cough that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. She turned her back to him and gave a good look to the jumble piled up in her den. "There is something I wanted to give you. Let me see now… I swear this den turns into a disaster area when Skimble isn't around to tidy up! I can never find anything…"

There was a shelf packed high with little baskets and boxes, and Jenny began rummaging through the containers, pulling down baskets and digging through them in her hunt for something.

Mistoffelees let her search, still looking down at his stomach. Seven kittens. He was fairly sure Tugger was going to strut around insufferably once he heard the news. With seven kittens to carry around until mid-summer, he was going to be an ungainly mess by then. Jenny was right; he wasn't shaped like a queen, and the balance issue wasn't the only concern he had about it.

"Jenny," Mistoffelees softly said. "How do you suppose the kits are going to come out?"

Mistoffelees could see her hesitation as she went still for a moment, her hand poised on the edge of a shoebox. Obviously it was something she had pondered as well, but clearly had no better ideas than he did.

"I'm not sure yet," she admitted. "We'll have to wait and see. Your magic helped create these kits; I'm sure it will also help in their birth. Let's take it one step at a time, shall we?"

"But what if-"

"I won't have you worry about such things now," she said, pulling the shoebox with her as she went back to sit next to Mistoffelees on the bed. "We have ways of helping queens when they can't give birth the traditional way. Everything will be fine. Now here, let me give you… oh, where is it now?"

Jenny muttered to herself as she pulled the large shoebox into her lap and practically tossed out its contents, pulling out forks and ribbons and bits of yarn until she happened upon her goal. "Ah!"

She pulled a tiny cork out of the box. It had been decorated; four pieces of wire had been stuck to the underside of the cork, one end had little dots and triangles of felt glued onto it, and the other end had a piece of white ribbon tied around it. It looked like a little cat.

"This is perfect," Jenny said, beaming. "I had my mice try some arts and crafts a while ago. This is one of the Jellicles they made. And it's just about the same size as your kits are now, so this should give you a good idea."

She handed Mistoffelees the cork-kitten; it was a little larger than the palm of his hand, and though its tiny features were crudely replicated, it really did look like a little kitten. To think that seven of those little things were inside him at the moment was astounding.

"Thank you, Jenny," he said, staring at the little cork.

"Now listen," Jenny said, reaching over to gently pat his stomach. "When you start to feel birthing pains, or anything that feels like the kits are trying to come, you come find me. If you can't, then go to Jezebel or Jellylorum, or even Skimble if you have to."

"Skimble? Why him?"

"He helped me deliver my last litter. They were coming too quickly, and he was the only one there with me. One of them even came out tail-first! He did a wonderful job, I have to say."

"Good to know," Mistoffelees said. Jenny was right; he had to take this entire situation one step at a time, or else he was going to drive himself mad with worry about what was going to happen at the birth.

"We're done here, love," Jenny said, smiling warmly. "I'll check on you again soon. For now, go on out back, before you wet my bed."

Mistoffelees nodded sheepishly; his attention had been so focused on thoughts of the birth that he hadn't realized he'd been squirming again. "Thanks, Jenny," he said, quickly tottering off to the back of her den. He held the little cork-kit securely in his hand, as though it were a precious new charge.

***

When Mistoffelees finally left Jenny's den, feeling at once much more relieved but also much more preoccupied with the news of the seven kits to come, he nearly tripped over the gathering of Jellicles. He was beginning to amass his own little fan club; or rather, his kits were.

It seemed as though every young queen was patiently waiting for him just outside the steps of Jenny's den. To Mistoffelees' surprise, even Tumblebrutus was there with them; either he had gotten over his discomfort over his tom friend being pregnant, or the young queens had beaten some enthusiasm into him. They certainly had enthusiasm to spare; Mistoffelees wondered if their interest had anything to do with them dreaming of their own kits, once they became old enough.

He quickly scanned the crowd and found Tugger, leaning against an upturned oven and anxiously looking towards his mate. Mistoffelees could tell he was dying to run over and hear what Jenny had told him, but still didn't interfere with the attention that was on him. Coming from Tugger, deferring the spotlight was a most selfless gesture.

Especially since, as Mistoffelees' gaze went out across the junkyard, the entire tribe seemed to be waiting out there for him. Every single cat, from the kits to the adults, were trying their best to look as though they had just casually strolled by and happened to notice Mistoffelees was standing there. Even Munkustrap and Demeter hung around the outer edge of the group, politely trying to appear as though they weren't. Jellylorum and Jezebel stood by the gathered kits, whispering to each other and smiling broadly.

The only one missing was Old Deuteronomy; Munkustrap had gone to the village to inform him of the pregnancy a few days ago, and so Mistoffelees had the strange intuition that it wouldn't be long before the old patriarch dropped by to visit the soon-to-be-new additions to his tribe.

"Well?" Victoria finally asked, smiling primly. "Did Jenny say how many?

"Six, maybe seven kittens," Mistoffelees said. He looked over to Tugger as he made the announcement. His mate's reaction did not disappoint; he grinned wildly and all but puffed out his chest, glancing around as though expecting a spotlight to shine down.

There came impressed murmurs from the others. Almost immediately, Jellylorum and Jezebel dove for Jenny's den, whispering congratulations as they passed him.

"Seven!" Etcetera squealed. "That is so great! Will you name one after me?"

"He can't do that!" Tumblebrutus said, gently cuffing her on the shoulder. "Jellicles can't share names, not until they've gone to the Heaviside Layer."

Tumblebrutus was right. And Mistoffelees couldn't help it; at the mention of the Heaviside Layer, he glanced over the dispersing crowd and searched for Demeter. She was watching the kittens interact with him from afar, but was quietly whispering with Munkustrap, and had not overheard that part of the conversation.

He thought about going to her. There was something quite important he wanted to ask, but it was difficult to leave now that he was the centre of attention. In fact, before he could think of an excuse to remove himself, he felt Electra gently pawing at his arm.

"Misto, what is that?" she asked, looking down at the little cork-kitten in his hand.

"This?" he said, holding up the cork. He grinned as an idea came to mind. "This is one of my kits. It decided to be born early."

"No it isn't!" Etcetera giggled. The other kits laughed, though Jemima looked a little unsure as to whether or not he was joking. "That's not what new kits look like!"

"It is!" Mistoffelees said. He was enjoying himself far too much as he held out his palm flat, so that the cork-kitten was standing in his hand. "Look, it's already dancing!"

It had become surprisingly easy to perform a few tricks; he hadn't told Jenny about his magic, knowing she would have sternly instructed him to rest, but he felt more focused and energized than ever. Normally, the small feat of levitating a spoon would have taken a decent amount of concentration.

Now, all he had to do was give the cork-kitten a little push of his mind, and it floated a few inches above his palm. Another mental nudge, and it began to spin on its stiff little hind legs, the ribbon-tail twirling about.

The assembled kits shrieked in delight and awe. Even the remaining older Jellicles murmured appreciatively at the trick. This sort of trick should have been draining, but oddly enough Mistoffelees felt strong and daring enough to see how far he could push the magic.

Keeping his eyes fastened on the cork-kitten, Mistoffelees sent it a little extra will, and it departed from his palm, spinning around in the air as it levitated from him to the crowd of young queens.

With a twitch of his nose, he made the cork-kitten somersault once in the air, and then made it float to the ground in the middle of the semi-circle of cats.

"Misto, that's amazing!" Victoria gasped, looking from the cork-kitten to Mistoffelees and back. None of them dared to touch the little makeshift Jellicle.

"But it's not me!" Mistoffelees said, putting in all the dramatic performance he had learned from Tugger. "I told you, it's the kitten doing the magic. See?"

It was risky, he knew, to attempt a magic trick he had never tried before, or even knew if it was possible, but he felt exhilarated enough to try. His magic had never been stronger, and he had never felt better while using it. Maybe the kits were helping out, making him more focused. Everlasting! What if the kits were magical too? All seven of them?

Enough. He needed concentration. To his surprise, it only took a tiny bit of mental energy to make the cork-kitten disappear in a small puff of blue light.

The queens gasped in delight, and their reactions intensified at the sight of another blue puff of light, in Mistoffelees' palm, and suddenly the cork-kitten was nestled in his hand again.

There came titters and applause from the young queens, and even from the other cats who had stuck around to watch his little show. This, Mistoffelees mused, was much easier to deal with. He could handle attention for his magic; especially when it deflected attention away from his pregnancy. He would have to come up with some fairly amazing tricks before mid-summer, though, if he was going to distract everyone from his growing self.

"All right, ladies," Tugger said, parting the crowd and gently shooing the kits away. "That's quite enough for today. If you don't mind, I'd like to get Mistoffelees for a private encore."

The young queens moaned in disappointment, but nonetheless obeyed their idol. Victoria, Electra and Etcetera quickly reached over to nuzzle Mistoffelees before leaving; it was obviously they wanted to touch his belly too, but managed to refrain. Jemima only gave him a shy smile before leaving, as did Tumblebrutus. Mistoffelees watched the small procession move away, following Tugger like ducklings as they giggled and fawned.

"It's hardly appropriate, you know."

Mistoffelees flinched at the cold voice behind himself. He turned about—a little more slowly than usual, thanks to his extra weight—to see Bombalurina staring down at him over her nose. She hadn't spoken two words to him since the Jellicle Ball, and had had nothing but icy looks for him since the announcement of his pregnancy.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Using your magic like that."

"What, like this?" Mistoffelees innocently said, holding up the cork-kitten. "This was just a little trick to amuse the kits."

"Not that," Bombalurina snapped. She pointed towards his swelling stomach. "I mean this. It was a rotten trick you did, just to ensnare Tugger."

Mistoffelees bristled. "I didn't ensnare him. We chose to be mates."

"Rumor has it, Tugger didn't exactly choose this," she said smugly. "Is that wrong?"

"Well, that's…" Mistoffelees stammered. "That's not exactly true."

"I know for a fact that he never wanted kittens," Bombalurina continued, taking a step towards him. "It's not proper for a queen to intentionally become pregnant to trap a mate, and it's especially not proper for a tom to use magic to do it. It wasn't fair for you to take Tugger away like that."

"You don't own him," he hissed. "You never had any claim to him. Tugger is happy exactly where he is, so why don't you go chase another mouse, Bombalurina?"

She hissed back at him, and out of the corner of his eye Mistoffelees could see her claws twitching. Bombalurina was tall for a queen and left him feeling a little intimated as she loomed over him, though the magic began to prickle in his hands as a response and he was fully prepared to defend his kittens from her if needed.

"Finally!" Tugger huffed, a little louder than necessary as he walked back towards the two standing-off cats. "Those little ones are persistent. Why hello, Bomba; I see you were just leaving us?"

Tugger ran a hand down his mate's back and pulled him close. Mistoffelees wasn't sure how much of the exchange Tugger had seen or heard, but he clearly knew enough to be politely and firmly chasing Bombalurina away. The red queen gave Mistoffelees a quick glare and sighed as she turned tail and stomped away.

Relieved, Mistoffelees sank into Tugger's mane. "Thank you."

"Whatever she said to you, just ignore her," Tugger said, giving him a quick nuzzle. "She was never good at letting go of what she couldn't have."

Mistoffelees only nodded quietly.

"That was quite the little show you just put on for everyone, by the way."

"Sorry," Mistoffelees said, a bit embarrassed. "It's just that… my magic's been easier to do lately and… at least it distracted everyone from the real kits."

"Never apologize for putting on a show," Tugger grinned. "I don't. Never have. Speaking of which…" He reached down, placing a warm, possessive hand on the swell of Mistoffelees' stomach. "Seven kittens, eh?"

"Seven," Mistoffelees said. "Tug, you… you are happy about them, right? Even if this happened by accident?"

Tugger frowned slightly. "Of course. Why would you ask me that?"

"No reason," Mistoffelees muttered. "You know, I'm going to become gigantic."

"I suppose I'll have to start rolling you around the junkyard soon," Tugger said. "I'll be mindful, though; I'd hate for you to roll under a junk pile and get stuck."

"Thank you."

Moving his hand from his mate's belly to his hand, Tugger plucked the little cork-kitten from Mistoffelees' grasp and held it up to examine it. His expression turned serious for a moment. "Did you ask Jenny how-?"

Mistoffelees sighed and leaned in to rest his head against Tugger's mane; maybe the tricks had drained him more than he realized, he was beginning to feel tired. Or maybe the brief run-in with Bombalurina had done it. "She doesn't have any idea yet how they're going to be born. We'll have to see, I suppose."

"Well," Tugger said, pulling on the white ribbon-tail. "Maybe you can just magic them out, like you did with this one."

Mistoffelees huffed a small laugh, feathering Tugger's mane with his breath. Suddenly, a presence began to prickle at the back of his mind and he lifted his head from Tugger's chest, peering out at the junkyard.

"What is it?" Tugger asked.

"Old Deuteronomy is coming," Mistoffelees said with a nervous smile, pulling away from his mate and straightening himself out.

"He is? Where?" Tugger gave himself a quick once-over, smoothing over his fur and fluffing up his mane. Amused, Mistoffelees rolled his eyes; with the exception of his mate, Old Deuteronomy was the only cat for whom Tugger really cared to make a good impression.

"He'll be here in a few minutes. Don't worry, you look gorgeous."

His perception had been correct; as he and Tugger walked toward the junkyard clearing, Mistoffelees spotted Coricopat and Tantomile slowly approaching; the twins nodded to him from afar, as though they had been searching for him specifically to inform him of Old Deuteronomy's imminent arrival. Mistoffelees smiled and nodded back.

He quickly grew nervous; Old Deuteronomy was loving and affectionate, but Mistoffelees had still not gotten past his kittenhood apprehension about the Jellicle leader. It had been easy to avoid stammering and making a fool of himself, as the other Jellicles were usually clambering all over their beloved leader, giving Mistoffelees plenty of room to hide. But he would have no such luck this time; he knew Old Deuteronomy was here to look in on him specifically, and his future grandkits.

Mistoffelees was somewhat fearful of Old Deuteronomy's reaction; Munkustrap had returned from the village after announcing the news and reported that Old Deuteronomy was thrilled, but Mistoffelees couldn't help but have doubt.

He had seen how some of the Jellicles looked at him, especially in the beginning; most were happy about his condition and happy to welcome new kittens into the community, but the strange looks came anyway, as did the gossiping about how this could have come to pass, the rumors and the theories about how this happened. He only hoped Old Deuteronomy wouldn't have strange looks of his own to give him.

Mistoffelees suddenly straightened up. Even if he hadn't been able to sense Old Deuteronomy's presence, the sudden excited yells would have been signal enough. Etcetera and Victoria had spotted him arriving, perched as they were on top of a tall pile of broken wooden furniture, and sure enough Old Deuteronomy was slowly ambling over, aided on one side by Munkustrap.

Mistoffelees couldn't help it; he leaned into Tugger slightly and smiled wanly as Munkustrap spotted him and pointed him out to his father, directing the old cat towards him.

"Don't be nervous," Tugger said, giving him a little push. "He made the trip just to see you."

"That's why I'm nervous," Mistoffelees whispered, and rubbed his stomach. "I think I feel nauseous again."

"Whatever you do, please don't hack up on my father," Tugger whispered into his ear. "Though I will say, you otherwise have perfect timing."

"What?" Mistoffelees frowned at his mate, but understood as Tugger stroked the fur of his arm, making him look down at himself. He had started glowing again. "Oh, brilliant."

Mistoffelees placed his hands protectively over his stomach and bowed slightly as Old Deuteronomy approached, a merry look in his eyes. Beside him, Tugger did the same.

Old Deuteronomy then opened his arms wide. Unable to resist the warm invitation, Mistoffelees sank into the embrace, feeling the rumbling chuckles through the thick furry chest.

"Astounding," Old Deuteronomy said, pulling away slightly from the hug. He placed his large hands on Mistoffelees' shoulders and gave him a long look, staring down at the small swell of his stomach with a brightness in his eyes. "A fitting miracle, from the magician among us. And from his mate." At that, Old Deuteronomy gave Tugger a rather knowing look. Tugger returned the gesture with a grin.

"Now if you wouldn't mind, my son," Old Deuteronomy said. "I would like to speak with Mistoffelees for a few moments."

Mistoffelees tried to keep his anxiety from showing as Tugger politely obeyed his father, nuzzling his mate comfortingly before leaving the two alone.

"To think, it seems you were just a newborn kit yourself, not so long ago," Old Deuteronomy warmly said. "You have a literal glow about you, little one."

"Thank you," Mistoffelees said, shyly ducking his head. "We think my magic did something mysterious at the Jellicle Ball."

"Magic should always work in mysterious ways!" the old cat said. "Especially when it brings about such wonderful and unexpected things."

Mistoffelees couldn't help it; his shoulders slumped as his breathing grew easier and the earlier hint of nausea dissipated. The action was not lost on Old Deuteronomy.

"You seem relieved."

"I worried that you would be…" Mistoffelees' whiskers twitched as he tried to find the right word. "Disconcerted about how these kits came about."

"The arrival of new kittens is always a cause for celebration, no matter how mysteriously they've come about," Old Deuteronomy said, smiling broadly. "I imagine dear Jennyanydots has been bustling about you."

"She certainly has," Mistoffelees smiled.

"Has she figured out when the new additions are due?"

"They should be born by mid-summer."

"Mid-summer!" Old Deuteronomy beamed. "A wonderful time to welcome new kittens."

Mistoffelees ducked his head again, laying a contemplative hand on his stomach.

"Sir… has anything like this ever happened before in our tribe? To any Jellicle tom?"

"Not in any of my lifetimes," Old Deuteronomy admitted. "But we are Jellicles, Mistoffelees. And we're quite renowned for making the impossible happen."

Mistoffelees nodded quietly. To his surprise, Old Deuteronomy stepped closer, placing a broad, furry arm around the smaller tom's shoulders. "And the impossible is frightening," the old cat said, softening his tone. "But all that matters is that you can find happiness despite the fear. Can you?"

"Yes," Mistoffelees said. The hug was comforting and he leaned into Old Deuteronomy's arm, grateful for the words. "I can."

"Then all will be well, I promise you," Old Deuteronomy said. He tightened his embrace around Mistoffelees' shoulders and began to lead him towards the tire. "Now come; Rum Tum Tugger was a boisterous kitten, and I feel you must be suitably warned before these little ones come along."

They sat together and spoke for a good long while. By the time Old Deuteronomy finished recounting the tale of how a weeks-old Tugger had managed to toddle away from his littermates and become trapped upside-down by his tail in a junk pile, leaving Mistoffelees breathless with laughter, he wondered why he had ever felt so apprehensive about the Jellicle leader.

***

Tugger stood apart, giving his mate and Old Deuteronomy plenty of room for a private conversation. It was comforting to see Mistoffelees slowly relax in the old patriarch's presence. He imagined his father would want a few words with him as well once he was done with Mistoffelees—surely something about being a proper, responsible father and loving his kits. Things that didn't need to be said, of course, but that were shared nonetheless.

He looked down at the cork-kitten in his hands, poking at the little wire-legs. He wondered what sort of words his mate was receiving from Old Deuteronomy.

"There he is!" came Skimble's cheerful voice, breaking Tugger from his thoughts. The orange tom was rapidly approaching him, followed by the elderly Gus.

"Seven kittens, eh?" Gus said. He slapped Tugger's back with a merry laugh. "That's quite the feat! Not that I haven't got my fair share of little ones running about, you know!"

"I'm sure," Tugger said with a cough. Gus may have been getting on in years, but there was nothing feeble about that slap. "Bet none of you ever thought I'd become a father."

"Oh, to the contrary!" Skimble said. "We all figured you'd sire some kits sooner or later. Law of averages and all that. Nobody thought it would happen this way, but, well—things happen as they will, I always say!"

Tugger rolled his eyes. He was almost relieved when Pouncival leapt down from the top of the broken furniture pile and provided a distraction; the kit was taken aback when he realized he'd landed in front of the three older toms. He stared up at Tugger for a few moments, then glanced towards Skimble, as though he desperately wanted to ask something.

"Something on your mind, lad?" Skimble asked.

Pouncival looked nervously from Tugger to Gus to Skimble again. "Jenny said that Misto was a special case, but… are we… are we going to get pregnant too? The other toms, I mean."

Bristling, Tugger leaned down and narrowed his eyes at Pouncival. "Only if you get too close to me."

The look of abject terror in Pouncival's eyes was oddly satisfying, Tugger mused, as he watched the young tom slink away as quickly as he had come. That should result in a few interesting rumors over the next few days.

Gus shook his head. "You're a right bastard, you know that?"

"Wait until there's seven of me running around."

"Oh no, you'll be the one dealing with seven little Tuggers running around!" Skimble laughed. "Which reminds me…"

The ginger cat patted the front of his brown vest and then reached into an inside pocket, pulling a small glass bottle filled with amber liquid. "Here you go."

Tugger took the bottle, examining it curiously. "What is it?"

"Scotch. Use it wisely now, you hear?"


	11. Like Mice

"Tugger?"

He grumbled as the soft voice intruded on his dream. It was a very good dream, too; he had just finished dancing a rather exemplary pas de deux with Mistoffelees, whisked back into their beloved clearing, and had been preparing to lay his mate down on the ground for a much-needed ravishing (something he was rather missing in the waking world, but would not admit for anything.)

The dream was now threatening to dissipate, and Tugger plunged his face into the fleece blanket beneath him to try and focus on his dream-Mistoffelees calling out his name in ecstasy.

"Tugger!"

A slap to the shoulder brought him back to reality in an instant. Definitely not a dream, his name wasn't being called out in ecstasy, and he jerked upright on his blankets, frantically blinking to clear the haze of sleep from his eyes.

"What?" he cried. "What's going on?"

Mistoffelees was sitting up next to him, both hands resting on the swell of his stomach. It was amazing to see how much it had grown in just one short week; there was no question now that his mate was visibly carrying kittens.

"What is it?" Tugger asked again. His heart was racing as he noticed the slight look of panic on the smaller tom; Tugger was ready to leap closer to provide assistance, or to leap away if this was going to end in another bout of illness. "Are you going to be sick?"

"No, no," Mistoffelees said. He groped for Tugger's hands and caught his wrists in a trembling grip. "Feel this."

Puzzled and still rather muddled from the sudden adrenaline rush, Tugger allowed his mate to commandeer his hands, placing them over the furry roundness. "What are you-"

"Ssh! Just wait."

Suddenly, there came a gentle pop against Tugger's palm. He looked down in surprise, and could see the tiny shifts in the black-and-white fur of Mistoffelees' stomach, even as he felt a few more nudges and squirms under his hands.

"Are those-?"

"The kittens," Mistoffelees breathed, with mild horror. "They're moving. I started feeling them a few minutes ago, they woke me up."

"Is… isn't that good?"

"Well, yes," Mistoffelees said, swallowing nervously. "But it feels so… strange. It's like Jellylorum said… it's like mice scurrying around in here."

There was a tremble in Mistoffelees' hands and a quickness to his breaths that left Tugger rather concerned. The small kicks and nudges against his cupped hands seemed like a wonderful thing—it was such a point of pride for pregnant queens to let everyone feel their kittens' movements, though Tugger himself had never been allowed to touch—but this was clearly causing Mistoffelees some distress.

"I'm sure you'll get used to the feeling," Tugger said, at a loss on how to comfort his mate. He rubbed the small swell as though it would soothe the kittens back to sleep.

Mistoffelees sighed quietly. "It's not that. It's just… they're really alive in there, Tug. They're real."

"Of course they're real," Tugger said. He gathered Mistoffelees into his arms and felt him shiver slightly. Now he understood; the small tom had wrapped his mind around the idea of the kittens, but to actually feel their presence in such a vivid way must have dragged the concept out from the abstract and into reality for him. "They're real, and everything will be fine."

"What do we know about caring for kittens?" Mistoffelees murmured against his chest.

"We'll figure it out," Tugger said. He patted the small swell as the fur continued to ripple a bit. "See? It's not so bad; they've already figured out how to dance. We hardly have anything else to teach them."

The jest had the desired effect; Mistoffelees relaxed a bit against Tugger's chest and breathed a small laugh. "They could still use a few lessons, from the feel of it."

"Maybe your kittens do, but mine have inborn talent," Tugger huffed. He made a great show of fawning over one of the kicks against his palm. "Wait- I think this one is performing a pelvic thrust!"

"He better not be," Mistoffelees said with a soft chuckle. It was cut short, however, as he suddenly hissed.

"Hey, are you all right?" Tugger asked, lifting his hands away, afraid he was squashing his mate's belly. "Are they hurting you?"

Mistoffelees shook his head, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "No, but... Jenny was right."

"About what?"

"About the kits bouncing around on my… I'll be right back."

Curiously, Tugger watched his mate totter to his feet and awkwardly run out of their den. He thought about following, to make sure everything was all right, but a few more minutes saw a much more serene-looking Mistoffelees shuffle back into the den.

"Er… better?" Tugger asked.

"Much," Mistoffelees said, curling up on the green fleece with a tired sigh. He rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around his belly. "Now please tell your kits to quiet down so I can sleep."

Tugger stretched himself out next to the small tom. He could still see the motions of the kits beneath the black and white fur and he had to smile at the sight of his kittens showing such signs of life. "I would, but you know they'll just do as they will."

"Figures," Mistoffelees murmured, already dozing off. "Just like their father."

Tugger chuckled, before falling asleep himself.


	12. Scent Trail

With his fur standing on end, and the twitches in his corded muscles, he looked for all the world as though a storm was approaching on the wind, making him anxious. It was, in actuality, no storm he sensed, and it was not anxiety that made him stand up, spine stiff as a rod, his features implacable as he scented the wind.

At first, he had not been entirely certain of the sense. After all, he had been led on too many false trails in the past, wasted so much time and energy and blood, all for nothing. Contrary to what other cats believed, he took no delight in being needlessly cruel; killing and maiming just for the sake of it was exhausting and time-consuming. It was easier to offer deals, to allow any cat who so wished to join forces with him.

Of course, if they chose to oppose and fight him, well, what choice did he have but to get rid of these insolent cats?

All the same, it was better to be certain, and this time, he was certain. If he had doubted it before, doubted for a moment what scent the wind brought to him, he was certain of it now: magic. The scenting of magic was something he could never explain to common strays; something their simple minds wouldn't care to understand anyway. It was a lonely existence, really; over the years, he had definitely amassed a large group of followers, none of whom really understood what was in his nature. They knew about his magic, and they feared what he could do with it (which was useful to keep them loyal and in line) and that was all.

The sense of magic was vivid, like a visible plume of smoke on the air. It was easy to miss, or to mistake for something else, even for one who was as attuned to it as he was. Despite his certainty about the magic he could smell, he still leapt up to the tallest roof he could find, day after day, eyes closed in deep concentration to focus on the scent.

It took weeks, but finally, he was confident in what he had found. His instincts had been correct. It was growing, day after day. It called to him, pulled him.

It seemed his search was finally at an end.

He would have to act quickly, but not too quickly. Tearing his senses away from the far-distant horizon, he scrabbled down the burnt and singed roof and entered the abandoned human house, which now served as his den.

At his entry, two toms pricked up their ears—a hefty gray-and-brown one who laid on his side and looked up now with a grinning leer, and a scruffy, all-black one who wisely rose to attention. He didn't particularly like either cat, but both had been in his employ for several years, and both could be trusted to carry out a delicate mission such as this.

"Boss?" the all-black tom asked. After so long, he had learned to recognize the knowing look in his master's eyes.

"Come to the roof with me," he told both toms. "We have important things to plan."

As they climbed to the roof, the breeze brought to him the scent of magic again. He closed his eyes as his tail lashed out in excitement, and it was all he could do to resist leaping down and running off into its direction, as though lured to a bloody trail with a tender prey at the end. Soon enough.

Macavity opened his eyes to the wind, and grinned cruelly.


	13. A Caper in Victoria Grove

The night seemed to come quickly. Up until now, they had fallen into a comfortable routine; Tugger, before learning about the kits, had the habit of being up and about and usually out of the den before Mistoffelees woke up. Now, ever eager to prove himself to be a responsible mate, he had taken to staying in their den, dutifully waiting for Mistoffelees to wake up, even if it did mean a few long hours of boredom.

He knew Mistoffelees was grateful for this small sacrifice, and had even apologized for being a sore trial, hampering Tugger's social life. The growing kits left him feeling so exhausted that he usually slept well past dusk, and even after that, it was a bit longer before his stomach felt settled enough for him to get up, and force himself to eat a little breakfast.

On this particular evening, Tugger was surprised to wake up to the sound of gentle purring. Curiously, he rolled about on his blankets to see that Mistoffelees was wide awake, contently lounging on his side and watching Tugger as though he'd been waiting for him to wake up.

"Hello," Mistoffelees said, beaming.

"Well, hello," Tugger said, cracking an epic yawn and stretching his long body out. "You're up early. And you seem chipper."

"I feel… good today," Mistoffelees said with an airy, pleased shrug, and swung his tail in a contented arc. "Energetic, in fact."

"I'd be careful about using that word around me, I might get ideas," Tugger said. He let Mistoffelees grab onto his fur to pull himself into a sitting position, the extra help now a necessity as the kittens continued to grow. Once upright and comfortable, the small tom idly ran a paw over the swell of his stomach; Tugger couldn't help the smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth as he watched the motion. "Want some breakfast?"

"Yes, actually," Mistoffelees said, surprising himself with the realization. "I'm absolutely starving!"

"Well it's about time," Tugger said with a grin. "Let me go find you a nice big rat."

"Oh no…" Mistoffelees said, with a twist of his mouth that made Tugger fear the sickness had returned. "No rats, please. That doesn't sound very good right now."

"I thought you said you were starving," Tugger frowned. "A mouse, then?"

"Not that either."

"Fish paste?"

Another shake of the head. Tugger sighed and scratched his mane at this sudden fastidiousness. "Then what do you want to eat? I don't want to play guessing games all night."

"I don't know," Mistoffelees said with a slight frown. "Jenny said the kits might be hungry for very particular things. She told me her last litter didn't care to eat anything but mackerel before they were born."

"Fussy little runts," Tugger said. He laid a paw on top of Mistoffelees' stomach. The kittens were still asleep, not yet kicking and bouncing, as they so liked to do. "So… do they want mackerel? I think I know where to find some…"

"No, not mackerel…" Mistoffelees ducked his head, patting the swell. He seemed deep in thought for a moment, until a sudden smile came to his face. "Oh wait, I know! Rice pudding."

Tugger blinked. "Er, rice pudding? That's kind of unusual. Have you ever had it before?"

"Yes, once. Bustopher Jones brought some on his last visit. I thought it was very good."

"And that's what you want to eat now?"

"That's what the kittens want to eat," Mistoffelees corrected. "But since I have to eat it for them… yes, that would be wonderful right now."

"That's trickier to find than mackerel," Tugger said. "Couldn't you just… make some appear?"

"How? Out of what? I can't just conjure something out of thin air!"

Tugger reached over and picked up the cork-kitten, which Mistoffelees always placed next to his blankets before sleeping. The real kits were much bigger now, but he hadn't lost his interest in the little figurine.

"You made this thing disappear and reappear," he said, tugging on the little white ribbon.

"Don't pull its tail," Mistoffelees said, taking the cork from Tugger's hands and shielding it against his chest. "Real kittens will cry if you do that, you know. And yes, I can play tricks with this because I already have it. I can't make something appear if I don't already know where it is. That's not how magic works."

"Seems to me your magic has a funny way of deciding how to make certain things appear," Tugger smirked, ducking the blow as Mistoffelees tried to playfully cuff him on the head. Maybe it was good that the kits slowed him down a bit.

"I suppose I could ask Bustopher to bring some rice pudding the next time he visits," Mistoffelees sighed.

Tugger scoffed. "You could, and by the time that hefty cat gets back here, the kits will be older than Old Deuteronomy. I've never hunted for rice pudding before, but if that's what my kits want- it should be fun."

"Really?" Mistoffelees beamed. "Where are you going to find rice pudding?"

"Leave that to me!" Tugger said. "Now stay here and rest—all of you- and I'll return with breakfast."

He licked Mistoffelees' ears before rising to his feet; though he couldn't help but quickly reach over for the cork-kitten, giving its tiny ribbon-tail a quick pull before avoiding another cuff and scampering out of their den.

***

Of course, hunting for something as odd as rice pudding would require a little assistance. Luckily, Tugger was nothing if not resourceful.

This early in the evening, it was easy enough to find the cats he was seeking. Most Jellicles took a decent amount of time getting up and rummaging around for breakfast, and these two were no exception.

Rumpelteazer lounged on her side, idly playing with a shiny little piece of costume jewelry she had recently pilfered, while Mungojerrie lazily hung upside-down from an old padded chair, half-dozing in the dusk.

"Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer!" Tugger called out, putting on his very best charm. "You both look splendid and agreeable this evening."

Rumpelteazer immediately lost interest in her bauble, sitting up and giving Tugger a coquettish smile. "Evening, Tugger," she purred.

Her brother was not so easily charmed; Mungojerrie stared blankly at the tall tom, still hanging from his chair. "What do you want?"

"I am in need of the assistance of the two most skillful and resourceful Jellicles I know."

If possible, Rumpelteazer sat up even taller, beaming with pride. Even Mungojerrie seemed a little intrigued at the compliment, rolling over on the chair to get a better look at Tugger. "A'right," the tom said. "What can we do for you?"

"How well do the two of you know the pubs of Victoria Grove?" Tugger asked.

"Like the back of me paw!" Rumpelteazer said brightly. "What's it you want with the pubs?"

"I need to find rice pudding."

Mungojerrie's whiskers twitched quizzically. "Did you say rice puddin'?"

"It's for Misto," Tugger said, and hastened to add, "For the kittens, actually. That's what they feel like eating right now."

Rumpelteazer squealed, clapping her hands together in delight. "That's so cute! Of course we'll help, won't we 'Jerrie?"

"Sure," Mungojerrie muttered. "I s'pose we could use a trip into the city. I'd ask what's it in for us…"

It seemed like the perfect time for Tugger to straighten up to his full height, glaring down at the shorter tom.

"… but, er, the satisfaction of helpin' Misto is all we need," Mungojerrie finished nervously.

"So, what place are you thinkin' is best to visit?" Rumpelteazer asked, turning towards her brother. "The Royal Oak, maybe?"

"Nah, they got a pollicle livin' around right in the alley next door, don't they? I don't feel like getting nipped today. What about the Fox and Feather?"

"They don't have rice pudding," Rumpelteazer wrinkled her nose in thought. "Oooh! But they got those Shrewsbury cakes! Remember those?"

"Oh, yeah! We oughta stop while we're there!"

"You two are beginning to sound like Bustopher Jones," Tugger sighed. "Meanwhile, my mate is starving."

"All right, all right, keep your collar on," Mungojerrie said. "What about the Barley Mow, 'Teazer?"

"I like their custard," Rumpelteazer gleefully said. "But that place is too full of humans late at night. I got my tail stepped on last time. Ooh, wait, I got it! The Brigantine! No one's ever watchin' the kitchen there'n they close early!"

"Yeah, that'll work," Mungojerrie agreed. He cocked his chin towards Tugger. "We'll be goin' to the Brigantine, then. Think you can keep up?"

"How hard can it be?" Tugger grinned.

***

Tugger had never liked venturing into the downtown area of London. It was crowded, noisy, and the humans rarely gave him attention, except for brief scratches to his ears, or to shoo him away from their paths. The streets smelled strange, overrun with alley cats, and the cobblestones made his paws hurt. He never understood why some of the Jellicles, like Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer, enjoyed spending so much time in the city.

Well, Tugger amended, as they passed a pub from which wafted the scent of roast lamb shank, reminding him that he hadn't had breakfast yet. Maybe I can think of a few good reasons.

Even though it was well past sundown, the streets were awfully crowded, throngs of humans strolling about in the light of tall lampposts. Though he would be loath to admit it, Tugger was quite thankful to have Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer guiding him around. He wouldn't have known one street from the next and it seemed easier to avoid careless human legs if he could just follow the twins' lead.

They were quick, darting in and around the crowd, leaping up onto fence posts and fountains, and for an awful moment Tugger wondered if he was getting out of shape, feeling breathless as they paused to gain their bearings. He hadn't been getting his usual amount of exercise lately; Mistoffelees had been too tired and off-balance to dance much, and mating had been even scarcer. With his two favourite activities out of the picture, there wasn't much keeping him in peak condition.

He was grateful when the duo nodded to one another, then to Tugger, motioning him towards a short bustling road. There were statues of funny-looking humans on horses all around the sides of it.

"Right, this is where all the good pubs are," Mungojerrie said. He'd been carrying an empty satchel and he unfolded it now, shaking it out. "Now here's my plan; we start with the Fox and Feather for some Shrewsbury cakes, then the Clocktower pub to see if they have any sausages left from dinner, then the Bricklayer's Arms for-"

"No," Tugger said firmly. "We start with this Brigantine place. Then if we have time, we make those other stops. Understood?"

"So you're the Jellicle leader now?" Mungojerrie groused.

"Come on, come on!" Rumpelteazer said. She had leapt up onto the top of a pedestal, twining her small body around the bronze legs of the statue. "The timing's right, the road's starting to empty."

Tugger joined her, bounding up to the pedestal. It did afford them a perfect view of the pedestrian road. Crowds of humans casually strolled out onto the streets, stepping out of the pubs and restaurants as night began to fall. If this was what Rumpelteazer considered 'empty', he didn't want to see this road crowded and busy.

A few cats, strays of London or wandering house cats, wailed and purred and begged for leftover treats. Did they have no dignity?

Tugger narrowed his eyes; there were so many buildings, each with their own decorations and signs on their windows, and he couldn't read any of the odd symbols. "Which one's the Brigantine?" he asked.

"All the way down the street, it's the one with the funny-looking tub above the door," Rumpelteazer said. She pointed to another building, one with an odd-looking animal painted in the window. "That one there's the Fox and Feather. And that one with the tower-thing is the Clocktower pub."

The tower-thing, at least, Tugger recognized to be a crude wooden clocktower, mounted on the road just by the entrance door. He wondered if Mungojerrie had a similar interest in the structure, as he pricked his ears up and stared out towards the pub.

"Hey, I'll just…" Mungojerrie said. "I'll be two minutes, no more."

"I thought we agreed no stops?"

"You ordered. We didn't agree. I'll be right back; you and 'Teazer head to the Brigantine."

It wasn't the wooden clocktower Mungojerrie was interested in; Tugger spotted an unkempt brown tom peeking out from behind the structure, urgently signaling Mungojerrie towards him. Within seconds, the two had disappeared in the alley next to the pub.

"Who was that?" Tugger asked, narrowing his eyes as the toms disappeared from view. He wasn't fond of unfamiliar cats, especially one he hadn't gotten close to and smelled.

"Hm? Oh, some fellow," Rumpelteazer airily said. She leapt from the pedestal and lead Tugger down a path on the cobblestone street, away from most of the foot traffic. "'Jerrie knows all of the Victoria Grove cats. They know where all the good food is."

"I don't like the looks of that one," Tugger said. He glanced behind them, and narrowly avoided running into a fence as Rumpelteazer leapt between the spikes. "Do any of these cats know where the junkyard is?"

"Sure, but they leave us alone. What would they want with a bunch of Jellicles like us? Anyway, there's the Brigantine here."

She parked herself down on her haunches in front of a pub with an elaborate wooden boat carved above the door. There was no light streaming from the windows and it looked all but deserted. Following her lead, Tugger also sat, though he glanced back towards the dissipating crowd of humans for any sign of Mungojerrie.

"What does that one want with your brother?" he asked.

"Probably to share some food," Rumpelteazer shrugged. "Who knows? Aw Tugger, you're all on edge! You're not a city Jellicle at all, are ya?"

Tugger bristled at the comment, but it was delivered so sweetly that it was difficult to take offense. Maybe the small queen was right; being in the city was making him nervous, and being so far from Mistoffelees was making him doubly nervous. The sooner he could find some food for his mate and return to the junkyard, the better.

Mungojerrie appeared a few moments later. To Tugger's relief, he saw that the smaller tom was carrying a small handful of sausages; so the crabby-looking cat from the pub really was just interested in sharing food, and nothing more sinister than that.

"Here you go, breakfast!" Mungojerrie cheerily said. He tossed one sausage to his sister and the other to Tugger, then raised his voice to a comical pitch. "'Oh thank you, 'Jerrie, you're simply spectacular!'"

"You are a paragon of talent," Tugger deadpanned. Though he had to admit, the food was wonderful, famished as he was. He finished the sausage in three bites. "Now, may we get on with this?"

"Kitchen's this way!" Rumpelteazer brightly declared. There was a tiny alley next to the Brigantine's left wall and Rumpelteazer quickly padded over to it. Letting Mungojerrie take the lead, Tugger then followed into the dark alley, blinking a few times until he could see clearly in the gloom.

They rounded a corner at the end of the alley; from there, Tugger could see a thin stream of light spilling out from a crack in a door. Mungojerrie had stepped ahead and was now cautiously sniffing at the door, turning to nod at his sister in a silent communication.

They had obviously done this many times before; they sprang into practiced action, with Rumpelteazer standing at attention by the door, keeping watch, while Mungojerrie nudged the door open and padded inside, dragging the satchel behind him. Feeling a little useless, Tugger followed into the kitchen.

The duo had been correct; there were no humans in the kitchen area. It still smelled of recently-cooked meats and poultry and of human activity.

"That would be the rice pudding up there," Mungojerrie said, pointing towards a stack of small, cup-shaped containers stacked high on a counter next to trays full of other sweet foods. Tugger stepped over, catching a whiff of milk and cream and sugar and fruits.

"I'll get them," Tugger said. He had had enough of being led around; after all, it was his job to hunt for food for his kittens. "I'll push them down to you, get ready with that satchel."

Mungojerrie shrugged, flapping open the satchel to indicate that it was all up to Tugger now and tossed the remaining few sausages into the bag. "All right out there, 'Teazer?"

"All right!"

The counter was high, but Tugger managed it in one jump, with a little extra push from his hind feet against the edge of the counter. Taking one of the covered cups in his hands, he picked at the smooth plastic top with his teeth until he had pried it off, enough for him to nose at the contents. Rice pudding it was. He smiled triumphantly. Perfect.

"Here they come," he called down, and tossed one cup down to Mungojerrie. He waited until the tom had placed the container into the satchel before throwing down two more, and then another two, then another.

This burglarizing business was easy, Tugger thought with a proud grin. Maybe London was unpleasant, but it certainly seemed simple to walk around and pilfer interesting and delicious foods. He thought back to that roast lamb and wondered how difficult it would be to steal a hunk of it on their way back towards the junkyard.

"Hey, do you fellas hear that?" Rumpelteazer said from outside the door.

"Hear what?" Mungojerrie asked, absently as he stuffed another container into the satchel. It was nearly full now, Tugger saw. He hoped it would be enough to satisfy the kittens' craving for the food.

"Like a sort of rumbl—whoa!"

Rumpelteazer shrieked and leapt through the doorway into the kitchen, using Mungojerrie as a springboard to jump up onto the counter next to Tugger.

"'Teazer, what the bloody—hell!" Mungojerrie started, as the 'rumbling' sound entered the kitchen; it was a pollicle, a stray hound so big it made Tugger look like a kitten. It skittered onto the tile, growling at Mungojerrie, who backed away from the creature until his back hit the counter.

"'Jerrie! Jump up!"

"Don't drop the pudding!"

"Shut it, I'll drop you!" Mungojerrie yelped, though he still held on to the satchel. He managed to gather his wits and scrabble up onto the counter just as the pollicle snapped its jaws and charged him. Its nose smacked into the counter, making it whine in pain and then bark in anger at the three perched cats.

"You said the Royal Oak had a pollicle livin' in the alley!" Rumpelteazer hissed, smacking her brother on the back of the head.

"You agreed with me!" Mungojerrie said, smacking her back. "It's your bloody fault!"

"Can we settle this later?" Tugger asked. He peeked out from the top of the counter; the pollicle brayed and barked at him, evidently not intending to give up its prey. Tugger retreated back, heart pounding.

"We need something to distract it," Rumpelteazer said, peering down balefully at the hound.

"Maybe we could toss Tugger down at it."

"That might only work if it's a female pollicle. And it would leave Tugger in a sorry state."

"If you two are quite finished," Tugger grumbled. He looked about, desperate to find something they could throw down at the pollicle. There was a large cooking pot on the counter next to them; he wondered if sending it crashing to the floor would scare the beast away.

Well. Some heroic Rumpus Cat he turned out to be. What would his fan club think if they saw him now?

"It won't leave," Mungojerrie sighed. "Maybe we oughta just start a new life up here."

"We could call it 'Brigantine Kitchen Grove'," Rumpelteazer giggled. "At least we won't starve. Plenty of pudding to go around."

"That pudding is not for you to—wait!" Tugger said, pawing for the satchel. "'Jerrie, you have some of the sausages from the Clocktower in there, right?"

"No?" Mungojerrie said, protectively clutching the satchel to his chest.

"Yes you do, now come on! We need to distract that bloody pollicle! I don't want my kittens to have a father with a few bites taken out of him."

"Think of the kittens!" Rumpelteazer gasped. She managed to pry the satchel away from Mungojerrie's hands and thrust it at Tugger.

Below, the pollicle was snuffling at them, scrabbling at the smooth wall of the counter with its blunt, useless claws. Thank goodness the beasts weren't any good at leaping through the air, Tugger thought. He opened the bag, careful not to spill any of the rice pudding, and found the three plump sausages which had been stuffed at the very bottom.

Tugger hated to waste any food, especially something so luxurious, but the circumstances were dire. Peeking out once more from the edge of the counter, he tried not to flinch as the hound barked at him.

"Right," Tugger said, speaking with all the confidence that he wasn't feeling. He fastened the satchel back up and held it close. "I suppose there's only one way to go about this, so here's the plan. When I say run, we just… run. Back to the junkyard. Is that clear?"

"Yes Tugger," Rumpelteazer gulped, crouching into position.

"Do I need to go over the plan again?"

"I think we'll remember," Mungojerrie sighed, though he too wiggled his rear as he prepared to leap down from the counter.

"Right," Tugger said again. He held up the handful of sausages, hoping the pollicle was hungry for something slower-moving than three cats. "Ready… run!"

He threw the sausages towards the other end of the kitchen, away from the door, and only stayed in place long enough to see the pollicle bounding after the meats. He leapt down onto the tiled floor, landing hard enough to make his paws hurt for a second. Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer were already ahead of him, scrabbling out the door and into the alley.

Tugger could have sworn he heard the pollicle growling after them. Careful not to drop their plunder, he followed the twins back through the pedestrian road, struggling to keep up as they twisted and turned and jumped from fences to empty chairs to statue pedestals.

"Is it chasing us?" Rumpelteazer yelled.

"Bloody hell, I'm not going to stop and check!" Mungojerrie gasped. "Run!"

Even once they were past the bustling cobblestone streets of Victoria Grove, they still didn't slow down, though Tugger was struggling for breath by the time they'd reached the empty, sandy field on the way to the junkyard.

Coasting on the adrenaline rush, Tugger grinned as they ran the entire length of the field, clutching the precious satchel close to his chest. He hadn't heard a bark or a bray from the pollicle since they'd left the Brigantine but he wasn't about to slow down and look behind them either.

It was only after they'd scrambled for the entrance to the junkyard, a loose board that covered the north side of the fence, and leapt over piles of junk until they were far inside their own territory, that they finally skidded to a halt, panting furiously.

Tugger couldn't help but laugh uproariously, though it certainly wasn't helping him catch his breath. Beside him, Rumpelteazer had tipped over onto the ground, giggling madly, and even Mungojerrie couldn't help but chuckle at their mad journey.

"Is it—always—like that?" Tugger asked, between gasping breaths.

"Nah!" Mungojerrie said breathlessly. "Sometimes there's two pollicles!"

Their mad laughter had attracted attention; Munkustrap popped up from the top of an old rusted truck, staring strangely at the three. "Where on earth did you three just come from?"

"Just getting some fresh air in Victoria Grove," Tugger said, clearing his throat and straightening up. His mane was a frightful mess from the chase. Perfect; it was going to serve well when he told the tale of their harrowing adventure. "Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer most kindly offered to show me around."

Rumpelteazer snorted kittenishly. "Our pleasure, Tugger!"

"Now Munkustrap, I don't suppose you've seen Misto around?"

"In the clearing," Munkustrap said, giving his brother a most dubious look as he walked past.

Slinging the satchel over his shoulder, Tugger proudly strutted towards the clearing, Rumpelteazer happily bounding at his side. He only dimly registered that Mungojerrie had stopped following them, but he couldn't really muster up any interest in the cat-burglar's whereabouts, especially as he spotted Mistoffelees.

He was sitting on an overturned bookcase with his long white legs hanging gracefully off the edge, his hands idly draped over his stomach as he laughed, watching Electra and Jemima struggling to bring down Tumblebrutus in a one-sided wrestling match.

Off to the side, Victoria lounged in a graceful ball; Plato was at her side, whispering something that made her blush and giggle.

Well, Tugger thought, sniffing disdainfully at the sight. It certainly hadn't taken Plato long to forget his kittenhood crush on Tugger. How fickle. He had hoped for the young tom to stick around in his fan club at least until the next Jellicle Ball.

"Misto!" Rumpelteazer squealed. She ran ahead to the gathering, effectively interrupting the wrestling match and leaving Jemima to dangle helplessly from Tumblebrutus' neck. "You should have seen Tugger! He was so brave! And smart!"

"Everlasting!" Mistoffelees said, taking in Tugger's disheveled fur. "Are you all right?"

"Never better!" Tugger laughed. He leaned down to lovingly nuzzle Mistoffelees, then allowed him to wrap his arms around his neck, and carefully lifted his mate to his feet. Goodness, but those kits were getting awfully heavy.

He brandished the stuffed satchel in front of Mistoffelees. "Still hungry?"

The bright, excited look in his mate's eyes as he vigorously nodded made it all worth it. "You found some?"

"I'm quite the hunter, you know," Tugger said, putting an arm around Mistoffelees and leading him towards their den. "Now come on, I've got quite a story to tell! You're going to be proud of your Rumpus Cat."


	14. Watchful Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Rated M for Tugger and Misto getting down and dirty**

"We had seconds to act, Misto! The beast had a taste for Jellicle blood; it could have swallowed us whole. All three of us! At once!"

"Sounds terrible," Mistoffelees said. He tucked into his third container of rice pudding and purred contently. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so hungry and the food was heavenly.

While the small tom sat comfortably in their den, enjoying his food, Tugger was doing a suitably dramatic job of re-enacting the events of the great Victoria Grove rice pudding caper. He hadn't yet groomed his mane back into shape, presumably for effect, Mistoffelees guessed.

"… and then I swear, once we started running, I could feel it snapping at our tails!" Tugger gesticulated wildly, flapping his hands together to mimic a pollicle's jaws. "Its breath was right on our backs. Have you ever smelled pollicle breath? It's dreadful. Like a rat that's been out in the sun too long."

"You risked your life!" Mistoffelees said with an exaggerated shiver. "And your tail!"

"Oh yes!" Tugger grinned cheekily. "Of course, I would do it all over again; it's what a great hero does." He dropped onto all four, leaning in to dip a finger into the cup.

"How do you like it?" Mistoffelees asked, watching as Tugger curiously tasted the pudding.

"I would say that I prefer cream," Tugger said with a light shrug. "I suppose this just means the kits inherited their taste for rice pudding from you, not me."

"Good! More for them," Mistoffelees chuckled. He was so preoccupied with his food that he barely noticed when Tugger crawled closer to him, and assumed his mate was edging closer for another taste of the rice pudding. However, Tugger only affectionately nuzzled his neck and gave his face a long, slow lick.

It was surely intended to be more romantic than sexual, but the contact immediately awoke a reaction in Mistoffelees, and he shivered delightfully at the feel of Tugger's rough tongue on his fur, though there was nothing exaggerated about this reaction. He placed the half-finished cup on the ground and leaned in closer to kiss Tugger.

He could feel Tugger shuddering against him, surprised at the kiss but instantly caught up in the display of passion. It had been so long; they hadn't properly mated since they'd found out about the kittens. At first, Mistoffelees had been too sick, and then too tired, and Tugger had simply not insisted they be intimate, but… now that his hunger for food had been satisfied, there was another rising hunger that needed to be sated, and to his surprise, he realized that it needed to be sated now.

He wound his fingers into Tugger's mane as he reclined on the blankets, making his intentions quite clear. It was a little more difficult to maneuver now, with the pronounced belly, but he managed to curl both legs around Tugger's waist, rocking into his mate's body.

"Mmm," Tugger murmured, kissing back just as fiercely. It was obvious he needed this too, judging by the way he began frantically pawing at Mistoffelees' body, rocking his hips. He leaned in closer, ready to cover his mate's body with his own, but froze when he encountered the pliant roundness of Mistoffelees' belly.

"Wait, no," Tugger said, ending the kiss and drawing in a few laboured, steadying breaths. "We shouldn't."

"It's all right, I want to," Mistoffelees purred. He locked his legs above Tugger's waist and tried to pull his mate down for another kiss. "We'll just take it slowly and it will be fine…"

With a groan, Tugger reached for Mistoffelees' legs and uncurled them from around his waist. He pulled away and sat on his haunches on top of the blankets, leaving Mistoffelees aroused and dazed. "Maybe it's best not to," he said.

"What?" To his stunned frustration, Mistoffelees found himself doing something he never would have thought possible: begging the Rum Tum Tugger for sex. His mate was still looking disheveled and was obviously aroused, a sight that did not help calm Mistoffelees' own rampant desire.

"It won't hurt the kittens," Mistoffelees said. "Jenny told me so herself. She said mating would be healthy right now."

"It's not that," Tugger sighed. "What if they… what if they hear? What if they remember what we do? I don't want them to form unsavory opinions of me before they're born. They'll think their father is perverted."

"They already know their father is perverted." Now it was Mistoffelees' turn to sigh. "Tug, you do realize that we've already mated plenty of times with the kittens in here? I've been pregnant since the Jellicle Ball, remember?"

"But those times were different! We didn't know about them yet!"

"But the kittens don't know that we didn't know!"

"But what if they know now?"

"Tugger," Mistoffelees said warningly. With just a bit of effort, he managed to roll himself into a kneeling position, looking equal parts menacing and seductive. "I'm only going to say this once. I need to mate right now. And if you're not up to the task, I will go outside and find a tom who is. Understand?"

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?" Mistoffelees asked. He gave a grin and swung his tail about cheekily. "Pregnant cats get quite emotional, you know. Very irrational. I'm liable to do anything at the moment. I might even put a spell on you."

"All right, all right," Tugger said. He leaned in again to nuzzle Mistoffelees, to the small tom's dual relief and pleasure. "Save your magic, I'm yours."

They kissed again, hard and fervently, as Tugger tried to maneuver himself so they could rub their bodies together without squashing anything on his mate, grabbing hold of those slender white legs to wrap them around his waist once more. They managed to fit together well enough for Mistoffelees to gently rock his hips against Tugger's pelvis, purring in pleasure—

\- until a knock resounded at the entrance of the den.

"Tugger, are you in there? It's important."

It was Alonzo; thank the Everlasting Cat that he hadn't decided to just barge into the den, but still. With a frustrated huff, Mistoffelees untangled his limbs from Tugger's as the bigger tom climbed off and shuffled towards the entrance.

"What's going on?" Tugger asked, speaking through the wall of the den. He wasn't even making an effort to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"Munkustrap needs to speak with you," Alonzo said.

"Right now?"

"Right now."

With a frustrated sigh of his own, Tugger tried to place his rumpled mane back into shape and make himself otherwise presentable, looking down at his mate and dropping his voice so Alonzo wouldn't hear. "If I tell him you're dreadfully sick and need my continued attention, will you play along?"

Though annoyed at their interrupted mating, Mistoffelees laughed softly. He hadn't yet moved from his supine position on the blankets, legs still spread and pulse racing, making his desire very obvious. "I am feeling a little out of sorts," he said mischievously. "But you'd best see what Munkustrap wants. And then hurry back."

"Hold that thought," Tugger whispered, bending close and licking Mistoffelees' cheek. He glanced down at his lounging body before adding, "And that pose."

Mistoffelees watched his mate pad out of their den, laying himself out on the blankets as comfortably as he could. Whatever Munkustrap wanted, he hoped it was brief.

He sighed as two or three of the kittens began to kick; a moment later, his stomach rumbled again. "Yes, yes, I hear you," he said, reaching for the unfinished container of rice pudding. "Famished little beasts."

***

It was usually Munkustrap who possessed the extraordinary skill to make Tugger feel like an unruly kitten, being marched to a parent's den to receive some discipline. At the moment, however, Alonzo was doing a fairly good job of it. It was a wonder he wasn't dragging Tugger by the ear.

"Any idea what I've done now?" Tugger asked, trying to sound as unrepentant as possible.

"Maybe you should just wait until you've spoken to Munkustrap," Alonzo replied. The patched tom gave him a sideways look. "Do you want to… stop and groom yourself? You smell like what you were doing in there."

"Well, we didn't actually get to do anything, thanks to you."

"Lovely," Alonzo sighed. He stopped in front of Munkustrap's den; the structure was comprised of an old writing desk wedged against an emptied dresser. Large for a living space, ideal for a meeting space. "All right, go in then."

Tugger stepped into his brother's den, surprised to see that Munkustrap wasn't alone. Demeter sat next to her mate; she gave a light sniff when she saw Tugger, subtly rolling her eyes at the scent that emanated from him. He would have felt irritated, but instead he frowned as he spotted Mungojerrie, who sat curled up on the opposite end of the space. He'd wondered where the small tom had gone off to after the return from Victoria Grove.

"All right, what did I do this time?" Tugger asked, dubiously looking from Munkustrap to Demeter as Alonzo sat behind him. He gave Mungojerrie a hard stare. "Is this because I threw your sausages at the pollicle?"

"Tugger, sit down," Munkustrap said. "This is important. Mungojerrie, tell him what you told us."

"Well…" Mungojerrie began, a little hesitant as he nervously glanced from Munkustrap to Tugger. "Tug, don't me mad, I wanted to bring it up with Munk here first. Now it could be nothing' but… you 'member in Victoria Grove, when I stopped for a chat with Vincenzo?"

"Who?"

"The fellow outside the Clocktower pub."

"I thought he had a bad look about him," Tugger growled. "What did he do? What did you do?"

"Calm down," Munkustrap said. "Nobody's done anything. If anything, that cat did us a favor. Mungojerrie?"

Before Tugger could ask for clarification, Mungojerrie continued, "Y'see, the strays over in Victoria Grove hear plenty of things. Some of 'em get mixed up with bad sorts. Word gets around, they hear things, they share things, you understand?"

Tugger sighed. "Not really, but go on."

"Vincenzo knows cats who… know Macavity."

Tugger couldn't help it; he hissed, low, in the back of his throat. It had been years since Macavity had threatened the junkyard. Out of the corner of his eye, Tugger could see Demeter, her fur bristling at the mention of the villainous cat.

"So what about Macavity?" Tugger asked darkly.

"According to Vincenzo, Macavity's been… real interested in something to do with the junkyard," Mungojerrie said. He looked over nervously to Munkustrap, as though afraid of Tugger's reaction to his next words. "Hard to say what, I heard it from Vincenzo who heard it from cats who may be Macavity's lot, but…"

"But?"

"The way he's been talkin', word is Mac may know that someone in the tribe is expectin' kits."

Tugger narrowed his eyes. It was all he could do to resist leaping up and grabbing Mungojerrie by the collar. "Did you say anything? Did you tell that rotten stray who was expecting?

"No, no!" Mungojerrie cried, shrinking back as though guessing at Tugger's intentions. "I swear. I told him maybe it was true, I don't know much about kittens, that's queen stuff. That's all I said. Vincenzo said Macavity's the one who knows things."

"All right, so what?" Tugger growled. "What does he care? Plenty of cats in London are having kits right now. Plenty of Jellicles have had kits before, he's never cared. This isn't special."

"Tugger, you know that's not true," Munkustrap said, raising a paw to calm his brother. "Mistoffelees is special. If Macavity somehow knows… or figures out that it's Mistoffelees who's expecting… well, we don't know what his interest might be. We need to be careful."

"Oh, we will be," Tugger said. He was growing edgy; he wanted to run back to his den and snarl at whoever passed the entrance, or run into Macavity or the Victoria Grove stray and scratch them both for threatening his mate. His claws itched and he dug them into the wooden floor of Munkustrap's den; Mungojerrie caught the movement and gulped. "I'm not letting Misto out of my sight. And when the kits are born, I'm not letting them out of my sight either."

"Calm down; this is why I wanted to speak with you alone first," Munkustrap sighed. "When are the kittens due again?"

"Right around mid-summer."

"That would be…"

"Just about three weeks away," Demeter helpfully supplied.

"That's soon," Munkustrap said. "Now Tugger, we don't know if anything's going to happen. But I'm glad Mungojerrie's friend gave us a warning; it gives us a chance to be on the alert. The first thing we should do is bring Mistoffelees in and discuss-"

"No."

Munkustrap frowned. "What do you mean, no?"

"We're not bringing him in. I don't want him to know about Macavity. At least, not until the kittens are born."

"Tugger!" Demeter said. "He has to be warned. We can't lie to him."

"He's under enough stress," Tugger said. "If he thinks the kittens might be in danger… no, I can't do that to him."

"All right, he's your mate," Munkustrap said resignedly. Though his tone strongly implied he wasn't thrilled with the idea. "If you think that's best for him… so be it."

"You said it yourself, it might be nothing," Tugger said. He unlatched his claws from the floor; he'd left little groove-marks in the wood. "Maybe Macavity just thinks this is funny and he's having a laugh with his hench-cats."

Tugger hardly believed that, and it was clear the others didn't as well. Demeter looked about ready to scratch him.

"Look, he'll be fine," Tugger sighed. "I won't let him be alone until the kits are born. We'll all keep him safe, won't we?"

"Of course we will," Munkustrap said. "If this is how you want it, but-"

"Then it's settled," Tugger said, leaping to his feet. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go keep my mate safe now."

Tugger nearly trampled Alonzo in his haste to exit Munkustrap's den.

He hurried back to his own den and stepped inside. With all this sinister information, he was half-scared of finding the space empty, but Mistoffelees was still there, curled on the blankets. He looked to be dozing, though he opened his eyes brightly at the sound of Tugger's approach.

Tugger didn't give him the chance to do much more than smile before he practically dove for the blankets and gathered Mistoffelees in a hug, cradling one arm around the pronounced swell where the kittens grew.

"Tugger? Wha-?"

He didn't reply, instead pressing kisses and nips to Mistoffelees' neck, running his hands up and down through the warm black fur. Mistoffelees' previous desire was obviously still burning hotly as he arched his body against Tugger's touch.

"Oh… mmm… what's going on? What did- oh! – what did Munkustrap want?"

"Nothing," Tugger said, his nose pressed into Mistoffelees' fur. He breathed in the scent of his mate, the powerfully sweet and heady scent that seemed to get stronger with every passing day, and let it run through his bloodstream, arousing him. "He just wanted to be sure we didn't cause any trouble while in Victoria Grove."

The answer seemed to satisfy Mistoffelees; or at least, he was too preoccupied with Tugger's hands on his body and his mouth on his own to care. Tugger hated lying to his mate, especially about anything concerning their kits, but he knew in his heart that he was correct; now was not the time to burden with mate with added stress. He would keep him in his arms for the next three weeks, if he had to.

And judging by the way Mistoffelees moaned and arched into him, he would not complain much about such treatment. To Tugger's relief, all thoughts of danger and Macavity were quickly replaced by thoughts of pleasuring his mate.

Mating like this was quite different. Maybe it was due to their long abstinence, or a side-effect of the pregnancy, but Mistoffelees was highly responsive under his touch, almost as much as he had been on the night of the Jellicle Ball, when the kits had been conceived.

He reclined on the green fleece, panting harshly as he watched Tugger through dark, lidded eyes, following the movements as Tugger's rough tongue ran down over his fur, stopping to lick at sensitive dips and curves. Tugger followed the round curve of Mistoffelees' stomach, careful not to lick or nip too roughly there. The fur suddenly shifted under his lips and he felt a quick pop.

Tugger drew back a bit, surprised. Mistoffelees' belly shook as he laughed. "Don't worry," he said, excited and breathless. "If they ask, we'll tell them you were just helping me groom myself."

"How are you going to explain what I'm going to do next?" Tugger asked cheekily. He followed the curve of taut skin and fur, laying delicate nips and moving lower.

Mistoffelees moaned and opened his legs wide, fully hard and fully excited, trying to swivel his hips as much as he could with the hampering weight. "Tug, please," he breathed. "Touch me..."

Tugger laid his cheek against Mistoffelees' thigh, growling low in his throat. There was so much he wanted to do; he wanted to taste his mate, smell him all over, take him in his arms and move inside him with complete abandon until he was howling in ecstasy. But though his body was desperate for action, his mind was screaming at him to be gentle, gentle. He wasn't sure what would feel good and what would hurt in Mistoffelees' current condition.

He opted for simplicity, running his tongue slowly and languorously against the inside of Mistoffelees' thigh. This produced a reaction, a loud moan that went straight to Tugger's core. He trailed higher up the soft black fur, and flicked the tip of his tongue against the hardness between those thighs. The contact left Mistoffelees hissing and twisting about on the blankets.

He was so ready. Holding onto Mistoffelees' hips, Tugger crawled his way back up, careful not to press his full weight down, and gently kissed his mate's ears. "How do you want to-?"

"Wait… like this, just help me…" He watched as Mistoffelees rolled over onto his side with well-practiced motions; then, with Tugger's hands on his hips to help balance the weight, he shifted onto his front, balancing himself up on all fours and raising his rear slightly. He looked over his shoulder at Tugger, eyes smoldering.

"There," he purred, flicking his tail seductively. "This should be nice for both of us."

It was certainly enough for Tugger. He leaned over his mate, stroking the sleek black fur of his back and stopping to massage the sensitive skin at the base of Mistoffelees' tail. He got a wordless plea in response, and to Tugger's delight, the fur beneath his hand began to glow. He never got tired of seeing that.

Tugger moved into a kneeling position, gently so as not to jar Mistoffelees or knock him off-balance, and growled in pleasure as he entered his mate.

In the glorious moments that followed, Tugger forgot all about threats and dangers and merely savored the sensation of mating with Mistoffelees. It had been much too long, he mused, especially as he noticed how Mistoffelees panted harshly beneath him, his tail lashing out in excitement.

"Tugger," he gasped. "Harder."

He wanted to obey to rapturous command so badly—in fact, it took all of Tugger's will to resist thrusting with abandon—but the position felt too precarious for that. Instead, he slipped his arms around Mistoffelees' chest and pulled him up, making sure not to part their connection, and knelt back so that the smaller tom was now comfortably seated in his lap.

Mistoffelees purred in approval, especially as Tugger grasped his hips to help maneuver his thrusts, and together they rocked, the pace quickly growing frantic.

"Tugger!" Mistoffelees all but cried. "Please bite me."

Tugger growled in pleasure at the request. It was easier, in this position, for Tugger to press his chest fully against Mistoffelees' back, biting the scruff of his neck with just enough force to drive Mistoffelees absolutely wild. With his nose buried in the black fur, he inhaled deeply, shuddering in delight at the so-familiar, heady scent.

He ran his hands over his mate's front, following the pronounced curve where his kits grew, and had barely slipped his hand between Mistoffelees' thighs to stroke his needy organ when the smaller tom tensed all over and loudly moaned, his fur sparkling fiercely as he came all over Tugger's hand.

Tugger bit harder into the fur against his teeth, stifling his own groan as he made a few more thrusts and came inside Mistoffelees.

Mistoffelees went completely slack against his chest, his head listlessly rolling back onto Tugger's shoulder as he struggled to get his breathing under control. As much as Tugger wanted nothing more than to collapse on top of Mistoffelees, he kept his wits about him long enough to gently push his mate off his lap and help him to lie down on top of the blankets.

He could feel the gentle purr through Mistoffelees' chest as Tugger began to groom his fur clean, lavishing attention to the round stomach as the kittens kicked against his lips.

When he was finished, he stretched himself out on the fleece blanket, securely wrapping his arms around Mistoffelees and leaving one hand draped over the curved belly. "I don't know if you put a spell on me or not," Tugger merrily huffed. "But it worked."

"Even if I did, you didn't seem like you would have minded."

He felt Mistoffelees' chest expand against his arms as he yawned. "So you've learned to cuddle now?" the small tom murmured, gently pawing at the arms around his body.

It was no secret between them that Tugger didn't care to cuddle. But at the moment he wanted, needed to make sure his mate wasn't about to be snatched from his arms by some unseen danger. He tried to make his tone nonchalant as he said, "Am I too old to learn a new skill?"

"It's not really a skill," Mistoffelees said. His voice was growing thick with exhaustion. "It's the opposite of a skill. It's just lying down."

"Am I any good at it?"

"Brilliant," Mistoffelees whispered as he drifted off.

Tugger stayed awake long after Mistoffelees had fallen asleep, consumed with thoughts of Macavity.


	15. Minor Adjustments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for tricksy and highly inaccurate (but magical!) biological processes

Mistoffelees stepped out into the early-evening sunlight and sighed contently. As mid-summer approached, the days grew longer—always a pleasant time as far as Mistoffelees was concerned, for it resulted in more time to sleep. The summer heat usually left him lethargic and unwilling to do more than lie in his den all day, and the desire to lounge about had become even stronger since he had begun carrying the kittens.

In an interesting counter-point, the extra sleep and his returned appetite left him energized, and it had become a rare treat these days for him to find any time to himself. Tugger had grown positively over-protective in the last week, ever since he had returned from Victoria Grove; maybe, Mistoffelees reasoned, the impending arrival of the kits had sunk in, leaving Tugger over-protective of his mate. It was nice to fall asleep cuddled in Tugger's arms, but still, it seemed the older tom was determined not to let Mistoffelees out of his sight for a moment. It was all he could do to get a few minutes alone just to relieve his bladder.

Mistoffelees hated sneaking out, but he longed to take a walk on his own, and had managed to wiggle free of Tugger's arms earlier that evening without waking him up. Now he could at least enjoy some time around the junkyard without his mate protectively standing by his side.

The evening was warm, but not unpleasantly so. Apparently warm enough that most Jellicles were still sleeping off the summer heat in their dens, leaving the junkyard fairly deserted. In fact, even though Mistoffelees heard a few gentle clatters in the distance, as a few Jellicles no doubt went in search for breakfast, there was practically nobody about.

He had so far only spotted Munkustrap, quietly patrolling from the top of a junk pile, who gave him a quick smile. Though the protector was trying to be subtle about it, Mistoffelees could feel his watchful gaze follow him around on his slow walk. The small tom sighed to himself; so much for being completely alone. Munkustrap had become almost as protective as Tugger.

He may have been carrying kittens, but he wasn't a kitten himself anymore. He may have become rather round and slow-moving, but he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Especially, he mused, as his magic had never been stronger.

Mistoffelees smiled to himself; at the bottom of a small junk pile, he spotted a discarded tin can—one that had previously contained herring—and with the tiniest bit of concentration, managed to lift it a few feet off the ground.

Keeping his eyes focused on the can, he made it bob a few times in mid-air, then spin on itself—and then, just to see if he could, he commanded it to hurl itself through the air. It landed a few feet away, clattering behind an empty ice-box.

There, he mused proudly. Nothing helpless about that, is there?

Or maybe there was. Mistoffelees suddenly grimaced as his head began to spin; maybe the magic was taking more energy out of him than he realized. Maybe it also had something to do with the fact that he hadn't eaten before leaving the den, unwilling to risk waking up Tugger.

He was paying for it now; the kittens began to bounce and squirm in earnest, leaving him even dizzier, and he reached out blindly for something to steady himself as his legs grew weak.

He'd expected to crash against a junk pile, but it was a warm softness that caught his body.

"Mistoffelees?" It was the voice he recognized before the scent—rich, feminine and just a touch haughty. He hadn't realized Cassandra was so strong, as she kept him from toppling over onto his face.

"Do you need to sit down?" she asked.

"Yes," Mistoffelees mumbled. It was difficult to concentrate, especially when his focus was entirely on trying to remain conscious. Cassandra helped him to sit on the ground, his back resting against the ice-box. After a few moments and a few deep breaths, the dizziness finally began to abate.

"Is that better?" Cassandra asked smoothly.

"Yes, thank you," Mistoffelees said. "I'm sorry—I just got dizzy all of a sudden."

"I understand," the brown queen said. She settled down on her haunches and wrapped her long tail around herself. "I'll wait until you can get up, if you'd like."

"Thank you," he said again, resting his aching head against the ice-box.

"Someone threw a can in my direction," Cassandra said. There was no hint of anger in her voice, but she didn't particularly sound amused either. "Was that you?"

"Oh- I'm sorry," Mistoffelees said, embarrassed. Though it was a good thing he did throw the can, since it had most likely been the near-miss that made Cassandra stomp over in his direction. "I was practicing my magic, I didn't mean to hit anyone."

"It's all right."

The silence that followed was decidedly awkward. He and Cassandra had never been close— she left Mistoffelees feeling nervous, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of her, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. He remembered that she and Alonzo had been trying to make kits of their own, and he wondered what she must have thought of him now. Even though she had offered to sit close by as support, she kept her gaze directed out onto the junkyard.

Mistoffelees sighed, shifting his weight on the ground and trying to get comfortable. Mid-summer was less than two weeks away, the time Jenny had predicted the kits would be born, and they were so big now that their shifting had become distinctly uncomfortable.

Cassandra glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Mistoffelees said. He wrapped an arm around his belly to try and balance the weight. "The kittens are restless, that's all."

The brown queen seemed to be hesitating on the cusp of a question. Finally, she asked, in a quiet voice, "May I feel?"

Mistoffelees blinked; he certainly hadn't expected such a request from her. "Of course you may."

Cassandra placed a delicate, hesitant hand on his stomach, with the faintest hint of a sad smile on her lips as the kits obliged their audience with a few kicks and pops.

"Er, Cassandra…" Mistoffelees began. "I heard you and Alonzo have been trying for kittens. Have you… I mean, are you…?"

"No," Cassandra quickly said, her expression darkening as she removed her hand from his stomach. "We haven't yet."

Mistoffelees regretted asking now. He had no idea what else to discuss with her, but clearly it was a sore topic. "Oh… I-I'm sure it will happen for you."

"Hm," Cassandra said. She had begun staring out over the junkyard again, but she restlessly looked back to the smaller tom next to her, and finally asked, "Mistoffelees?"

"Yes?"

"Your magic made these kittens appear in you, didn't it?"

"That's what we think," Mistoffelees said.

"Do you think…" she began, then pressed her lips together, the haughty expression fading for a moment. "Is there any way your magic could… could do the same for us? For me?"

"Oh… Cassandra…" Mistoffelees said. The request made his heart twinge. "I don't know. I don't think so. It's not something I can really control… I mean, it happened purely by accident for us, and-"

"No, no," Cassandra whispered. "I understand. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that of you."

"If I could do it, I would help you in a moment," Mistoffelees said. He wanted to reach over, touch her, offer comfort, but he was at a loss. Cassandra didn't seem like the type who liked to be hugged. "I swear, I would."

"I know you would," Cassandra said. She gave him a shaky smile. "The Everlasting Cat has strange ideas, doesn't she? Going above and beyond to give kits to a tom, when others are left ignored."

"Don't speak like that," Mistoffelees said. It was a little unnerving to hear someone speak ill of the Everlasting Cat, though he had to admit he had pondered it himself. "Maybe… maybe it just takes a bit longer when you make kits the traditional way."

The brown queen chuckled softly. "I suppose I wish I could sample a bit of your magic. It must feel wonderful."

"I've been learning to levitate things," Mistoffelees said, smiling. "And a few other tricks. Maybe you can be my assistant one day."

"That does sound amusing," Cassandra said. Her eyes softened. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yes," he answered automatically, though he wondered if he really did. His legs still felt weak and he was hungry, which he worried would bring the dizziness back if he stood up. He wondered if Cassandra would be willing to bring him something to eat, to replenish his energy before he got up and around, but he felt shy about making such a request of her.

Mistoffelees began to ponder the feasibility of asking for Munkustrap's assistance—surely the protector was still hovering around close by—but a curious sound from Cassandra soon distracted him.

"Your fur is glowing," she said.

"Oh," Mistoffelees said, glancing down at himself. "It's okay, it's normal. It happens here and there."

"It doesn't hurt?"

He was about to reply in the negative, since the glow had never been painful before, but he frowned as he realized his fur and skin were growing hot. The glow intensified and seemed to settle over his belly, leaving a faint ache.

"Not really… it just feels a little… aagh!"

Mistoffelees couldn't help but scream. A sudden, white-hot pain radiated from his belly to his groin, leaving him shuddering helplessly. He could feel his fur growing hotter still, glowing fiercely, and he struggled to curl himself up as much as he could as though it would help against the pain.

He dimly registered Cassandra yelling out his name in alarm, then the sound of paws hurrying towards him. Cracking his eyes open, he saw Munkustrap leaning down over him. As much as he wanted to call out to the protector, he could do little more than helplessly gasp for breath.

"Munkustrap-!" Cassandra cried.

"I've got him," Munkustrap said, tersely. "Go fetch Jenny, now."

Through the haze of agony, Mistoffelees felt Munkustrap gathering him into his arms, gently rubbing his back. It felt like his innards were burning, separating, and he wildly reached out, sinking his claws into Munkustrap's arm to brace himself against the pain.

And then, as quickly as it had come on, the searing pain stopped, the agonizing glow ebbing away to nothing, leaving him a trembling, panting mess, still desperately latched onto Munkustrap's arms.

"It's okay," Munkustrap soothed. If the claw wounds were hurting him, he made no sign of it. "Try to breathe."

He did, drawing in gulps of air and slowly drawing his claws free from the protector's skin. It was another few moments before Mistoffelees dared to uncurl himself, relieved when the motion brought him no additional pain. With Munkustrap's help, he rolled over onto his back and lay there weakly.

His scream had attracted attention, however. Cassandra had left, presumably to get Jenny; but now others had come running, and standing in Mistoffelees' blurry field of vision were Gus and Admetus, both looking quite concerned, and Etcetera, who held her paws in front of her mouth, shocked. He didn't want to think of how many others were standing around, staring at him as he writhed on the ground.

He wasn't even sure if he felt relieved or irritated when he heard Tugger's voice, calling out his name as he came running. A moment later his mate dropped to his knees next to him.

"Misto! Are you all right?" Tugger asked frantically. "Where did you go? You just snuck out of the den?"

"I'm sorry," the small tom rasped. "I wanted to be alone for a bit."

"It's all right, Tugger," Munkustrap said. "I had an eye on him, Cassandra was with him. He was fine."

"He's not fine!"

"I am fine!" Mistoffelees huffed. "Now may we please go wait for Jenny in our den? I wouldn't mind a bit of privacy right now."

No sooner had he made the request that Tugger gathered him up in his arms, Munkustrap following closely behind as they made the short walk back to Tugger's den. Mistoffelees sighed and buried his face in Tugger's mane, after glancing behind and seeing that the crowd of worried Jellicles had grown; now that the pain was gone and he was getting his strength back, he felt distinctly embarrassed about the unwanted attention he had attracted.

He was grateful that Munkustrap opted to stay on the outside of the den; hopefully his presence would keep any curious cats from knocking, with the exception of Jenny.

Mistoffelees groaned softly in relief as Tugger carefully deposited him on their blankets, helping him roll onto his side in the only position that was comfortable these days.

"Is it time? Are the kittens coming?" Tugger asked. He looked positively disheveled and panicked, hovering close to his mate without sitting down.

"I don't know," Mistoffelees said. "I think it's too early."

"Where does it hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt anymore," Mistoffelees said. He was still awfully achy, but at least the fierce pain had gone. If that had been a birthing pain, he shuddered at the thought of dealing with more. "Well, not as much. Now I'm just sore."

"Where?"

He cupped his belly with one hand, and parted his legs slightly to indicate where the pain had travelled. "Here and here. I'm not sure if that means the birth is happening, Jenny can tell me when she gets—Tugger, what is it?"

Tugger's concern had been replaced with a look of intense confusion. He was staring down between Mistoffelees' parted thighs with a frown. "Um, Misto…" he began, before leaning in slightly. "I think you've… changed."

Now it was Mistoffelees' turn to sport a look of intense confusion. "What are you talking about?"

He didn't resist when Tugger gently moved his legs apart and felt through the fur, though he did feel a flush of embarrassment at the scrutiny. He certainly enjoyed it when Tugger paid attention to him down there, but this wasn't exactly the best time.

"You've definitely changed," Tugger said, bemused. "We were wondering how the kittens were going to come out, well… looks like your magic took care of that."

"What!" He couldn't see with his belly in the way, so he reached down and felt himself. To his stunned dismay, he saw that Tugger was right; he had transformed from a tom to a queen, at least down there.

"Everlasting, no!" Mistoffelees moaned, withdrawing his hand in shock at the foreign feel between his legs. Granted, it solved one problem about the upcoming birth, though he wished his body had been a little subtler about preparing for it. Couldn't his magic just have whisked the kittens out, instead of giving him this small humiliation?

"I'm sure it won't last," Tugger said quickly, seeing his mate's distress at the change. "It's probably just for the kits to be born. You're still a tom!"

"Am I?" Mistoffelees cried. "What's everyone going to think when they find out?"

"Misto, calm down. No one has to know. You can hardly tell!"

"You noticed right away!"

"I'm your mate! It's my job to notice everything about that part of your body!"

Mistoffelees quieted down, tense as the realization struck. His body was preparing for the kittens. Maybe they were ready to be born today, and the thought terrified him, replacing his anxiety about the sudden and bizarre physical change.

He'd expected to have more time to prepare, mentally and physically, for the kittens to arrive, even if it only was two extra weeks. He hadn't been ready for the intensity of the pain, the shock of it all, and their den wasn't even ready, and he wasn't entirely sure if Tugger was ready for all this, and-

A sudden bustling at the den entrance distracted him from further thoughts. It was Jenny, cheerfully speaking with Munkustrap before nosing her way inside. Mistoffelees was relieved to see she was alone. He didn't think he'd be able to deal with her attentions, and Jellylorum's and Jezebel's on top of that.

"Well, hello!" she said, positively beaming. "Are we ready to start welcoming some kits?"

"I'm not sure," Mistoffelees said. Jenny dropped to her haunches next to him and began kneading his belly.

"How many pains have you felt so far?" Jenny asked.

"Just one. A really bad one."

"It made him change," Tugger bluntly said. "Show her."

"No, I-I don't… I don't want to," Mistoffelees stammered. He couldn't help it; he curled it on himself as much as he could, anxious all over again about this odd change. What if Jenny laughed at him?

"Misto, she has to see!" Tugger said.

"My dear, this is important," Jenny said, stern but puzzled as she peered down at him. "Please, show me what Tugger is talking about."

With a panicked sigh, Mistoffelees buried his face in his hands and allowed Tugger to maneuver his legs apart, allowing Jenny a look.

"Oh!" Jenny exclaimed. "Goodness, there's something unexpected. But then again, didn't I tell you? I knew your magic was going to provide a bit of help when we needed it. You are full of wonders, little one."

"Lucky me," Mistoffelees murmured, peeking out at the queen from between his shaking fingers.

"I wonder, too…" Jenny said, giving him a long look, lost in thought for a moment.

"Jenny? What?"

He warily followed her movements as she reached for him. At first, Mistoffelees assumed she meant to feel his stomach again, but instead she pressed her fingertips into the fur on his chest as though seeking something.

"What are you—hey!" He yelped as Jenny's fingers brushed against something on his chest, something that was not quite painful but still very sensitive. Jenny ran her fingers down along both sides of his chest, uncovering more of the sensitive spots and looking very pleased with her findings. When Mistoffelees looked down to where her fingers had dug through his fur, he received his second shock of the day.

"Well, it makes sense, doesn't it?" Jenny cheerily said. "If your magic is going to help with the birth, then by all means it should help you feed these little ones!"

"Oh no," Mistoffelees moaned, crossing his arms over his chest. It was all he could do to resist slapping Jenny's hand away from him. "No, no…"

Everlasting, he wasn't expecting this, especially not on top of the other, bigger change. Granted, the tender swollen spots weren't really visible through the fur on his chest, but…

"Misto, it'll be fine," Tugger gently said. He was hovering next to Jenny, laying a soothing hand on Mistoffelees' shoulder; he hoped, he really hoped that Tugger wasn't entertaining thoughts about getting creative with all this. "You're not a queen; you still look like you, you still smell like you. Jenny won't tell anyone, right?"

"Of course not; and it's only for the good of the kittens," Jenny added, leaving his chest and pressing her hands to his stomach. "I will bet you anything that you'll be back to your old self once these little ones are born."

"And too old for milk," Mistoffelees muttered. He winced as Jenny continued to feel around his belly, bothering the residual ache. A few of the kits began to paw back, as if in response to the attention.

"That too," Jenny said. "Do you feel any pain now? Any tightness?"

"Just a bit achy, but nothing else."

"Sick to your stomach?"

"No," he said, dropping his arms back down to the blankets. "Actually, I'm quite hungry."

"I'll let you get some breakfast in a moment," Jenny said. She nodded to herself and patted his stomach, evidently satisfied with whatever her examination had uncovered. Mistoffelees couldn't help but think that she looked disappointed as she said, "Your body may have prepared, but you won't be having these kittens today, from the looks of it."

"So it's not time?" Tugger asked. For his part, he looked relieved, and finally stopped his worried hovering to sink down heavily on his rump.

"That wasn't a birthing pain, then?" Mistoffelees said. He relaxed into the blankets for the first time since entering the den. "Thank the Everlasting Cat. I've never felt so much pain."

"Oh Misto," Jenny said tenderly. "When the time comes, it will hurt quite a bit, there's no avoiding that. But we'll help you manage. I have to admit, dear, I'm relieved that your magic gave us a bit of help. This will make everything much easier."

"So he'll be giving birth like a… like the usual way?" Tugger asked. Mistoffelees wondered if he'd just stopped himself from saying 'like a queen'. He seemed edgy again, nervously clawing at his mane. "With the blood and the… everything?"

"Well, of course," Jenny said with a sniff. "How did you think this was going to happen? Newborn kittens don't come out clean and perfect. Not even you, Tugger."

"Tugger gets squeamish about certain bodily things," Mistoffelees said with a weak laugh. He remembered how thrilled Tugger had been when he'd stopped being sick nearly every evening, terrified as he was of accidentally being vomited on.

"I most certainly do not," Tugger huffed. "But when the time comes, I'll be staying by your head. To be out of Jenny's way, of course."

"Of course, dear," Jenny tittered. She bent low to where Mistoffelees lay on the blankets and nuzzled him. "Now, plenty of rest for you, and I forbid you from dwelling on these changes your magic gave you. If you feel any more pains at all, come find me, or Jezebel or Jellylorum. Understand?"

"Yes, Jenny."

"And you, Tugger-"

"Yes, ma'am," Tugger said, giving the queen his most charming smile. "I will keep an extremely watchful eye on him."

"Now if you don't mind, I'll go let everyone in the junkyard know that they can relax," Jenny said, rising to her feet. "You've got quite a crowd assembled outside of your den."

I hope they won't be too disappointed, Mistoffelees mused to himself as he watched Jenny briskly walk out of the den to share the news, or lack thereof. It was nice to count on the support of friends, but honestly, some things he preferred to keep private, and other things he really preferred to keep secret. He hoped the entire tribe wasn't planning on standing outside his den when the real birth happened.

He curled up on his side, trying hard not to think of what his magic had just done to his body and trying very hard not to notice if he felt any different. Beside him, Tugger huffed a melodramatic sigh and collapsed on the blankets.

"Now I understand what Skimble's scotch is for. Please, don't do that to me again."

"How terrible for you," Mistoffelees grumbled. "Tug, I doubt we'll get a second reprieve…we need to start getting ready for the kittens in here."

"We'll be ready."

"We'll need to make space for them."

"There's room here," Tugger said, waving his paw around the den. "I'll clear it up."

"And we'll need some blankets for them."

"I'll find some."

"And we'll also—"

"Was Jenny speaking pollicle?" Tugger said. "You need to rest. Everything will be taken care of. I'll be more than happy to make Munkustrap do all the work."

Mistoffelees sighed, reaching for Tugger's hands and directing them to his back, purring as he got the point and began to massage his aching muscles. He began to relax, at least until Tugger's rubbing hands began to stray a little too low and a little too close to his thighs.

"Don't even think about it," Mistoffelees muttered.

"What? I'm keeping a watchful eye on you."

"I know what you're keeping a watchful eye on. We're not mating again until the kittens are born. And until I've… gotten my body back."

"Such a spoilsport," Tugger said, nuzzling his face. He snuck a paw towards Mistoffelees' chest and got a swat for his efforts. "Tell me you're not a little bit curious about your little changes? You might later regret not taking the opportunity to experiment."

"Get away from me."

"We need to work on your adventurous side."

They lay curled up together on the blankets, exhausted from the unexpected ordeal, only for the silence to be interrupted as Mistoffelees' stomach gave a rather unseemly growl.

"Hungry?" Tugger asked with amusement.

"Everlasting, yes!" Mistoffelees all but cried. "I've been hungry since I woke up. Would you find me something to eat?"

"You expect me to go out there?" Tugger said in mock consternation. "With everyone desperately waiting to see how you're doing?"

"You can face them, or you can stay here and deal with me, and right now I'm starving," Mistoffelees said, glaring at his mate. "It's entirely your choice."

"Right then," Tugger said, quickly scrambling to his feet. "How about a few mice?"

"Make that a lot of mice. And… and something with fish in it."

Mistoffelees watched Tugger hurry out of their den and laid his head down with a tiny smile, eager for a bit of rest. The kits started up again, shifting and tumbling inside him; he tried to soothe them with a rub. _You kittens have certainly done some strange things to me,_ he sighed. _This is adventure enough for me._


	16. From Out the Shadows

With summer now in full force, the days were not only becoming longer, but also hotter, leaving the junkyard in a sort of lethargy. Most Jellicles spent the days sleeping in their dens, or out in the open in whatever cool and shady spot they could find. Even the nights, when the cats were usually up and active, were becoming hot and humid, leaving many to continue their lounging again until dawn.

Though Mistoffelees could now easily control and block the sunlight from spilling into their den, there was not much he could do about the temperature. Thankfully, he had not much to do at the moment but sleep as much as possible, ignoring the heat and other discomforts under layers of slumber.

It was occasionally annoying these days for the small tom to find himself surrounded by Tugger's limbs. His mate was large and furry and generated enough heat to make him swelter, and in fact he wondered if that was the reason why Tugger never usually cared to cuddle. It would be wonderful in the wintertime, but now, with the kittens who seemed to be providing heat of their own, the embrace often made him unbearably hot. As if the overly warm days of summer weren't already making him miserable!

When Mistoffelees woke up in the middle of this particular day, he was surprised to find himself perfectly at ease. It had rained earlier that morning, leaving the air pleasantly cool, and comfortable enough for Mistoffelees to sleep in Tugger's arms.

He had to admit he was pleased that Tugger finally decided to try his hand at cuddling. When the temperature wasn't too hot, it was nice to have Tugger dozing off against his back, his arms wrapped securely around his body, his slow breaths warming the back of Mistoffelees' neck.

He wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep and enjoy the embrace. It was wonderful, at least until Mistoffelees realized the downside of being so firmly trapped; one of the kittens rolled over inside him and stretched its paws out, pressing hard against his bladder.

Mistoffelees' eyes flew open in shock. Well, that just about ruined any plans he may have had to lounge about in bed. He began to squirm in Tugger's arms, trying to slip out of the embrace.

To his dismay, Tugger mumbled sleepily and tightened his hold. It would have been delightful to wile a few more minutes away in his mate's arms, but the need was becoming unbearably urgent, especially as the cruel kit gave him a sudden kick.

"Tugger?" he whispered. "Tugger, wake up. Let me up."

"Hrmm." Tugger shifted against his back, still asleep. His arms were fastened tight around Mistoffelees' chest, holding him as though he was afraid his mate would somehow float away, even though he was much too big and heavy for that.

He was still struggling to pry Tugger's arms away when the kitten kicked hard again, making him groan in alarm. Damn Tugger and his newfound cuddling skills! Well, desperate times called for desperate measures. With as much strength as he could muster, he flexed his arm and elbowed Tugger in the ribs.

It had the desired effect; Tugger woke with a flinch, coughing in pain and surprise. "What the bloody he—what was that for?"

"You're snoring away in my ear while your kittens are kicking me in a delicate place," Mistoffelees grumbled. Finally free, he pushed himself up onto all fours. "It was that, or I wet the blankets. I picked the more pleasant of the two options. Now help me up."

"You could have just woken me up!" Tugger said. He rose to his feet, reaching down to help Mistoffelees stand.

"Well, I did, didn't I?" Mistoffelees muttered. "You're awake."

"And bruised," Tugger said, wincing as he pressed a hand to his ribs.

"Poor thing." Mistoffelees groaned as he stood up straight. Thank the Everlasting Cat he only had another week to go; he felt about ready to explode with these kittens, in every sense of the word.

Tugger stopped him just as he began to head for the den's exit. "You'll be just outside? Just a few minutes?"

"Yes, Tugger," Mistoffelees said. He crossed his legs in an effort to make a point; it was one thing to be overprotective of the kittens, but Tugger was really starting to exaggerate. "Everlasting, do you want to come out with me and watch?"

He could have sworn Tugger was considering it. His bladder, however, wasn't willing to give Tugger the time to deliberate, and without waiting for a reply, Mistoffelees quickly scrambled out of their den.

He was certain his moan of relief was audible throughout the junkyard. When he was finished, Mistoffelees took his time returning to their den, enjoying a bit of the mid-afternoon sun peeking through the disappearing clouds and avoiding the puddles of lingering rainwater on the ground.

He held his breath as he felt the kittens waking up, shifting around with vigor inside him; every little move now had him on edge, waiting for a sudden pain to strike. When it began, he certainly hoped he would be in his den, with Tugger, and not create a scene in the middle of the junkyard like last week, when the rather interesting change had happened.

Exhaling slowly, Mistoffelees ran his hands over both sides of his chest, hissing softly as his fingers encountered the tender swells of his nipples. His chest had begun to ache in the past few days; he dimly wondered if it was a sign of impending birth, or another random painful oddity he simply had to deal with.

He'd had more than enough of those lately; everything on his body either hurt, or felt foreign and strange to him. His heavy belly had grown gigantic, as he'd feared, round and protruding and stretching his fur thinly over his abdomen. Standing up straight made his back and legs ache terribly; getting about on all fours made all his limbs ache exactly the same. He was hungry all the time, but still felt nauseated when something strange crossed his path; Rumpelteazer had dropped by a few days ago to offer Tugger and him some small meat pies from Victoria Grove, and the smell alone had made him gag.

He wondered why any queen would be happily willing to go through all these aches and pains more than once, and he hadn't even gotten to experience the birth yet. Of course, no queen in the junkyard had ever had the dubious pleasure of carrying seven kittens around.

As if on cue, the kittens began another round of kicks; it was not quite as uncomfortable as it had been a few minutes ago, though their little paws were certainly getting big and strong. Mistoffelees placed a hand against his belly, smiling at the feel of the kittens' nudges; soon, very soon, he would get to meet them, hold them, see what they looked like. How many queens, how many toms, he wondered? Would any look like him, or like Tugger? What would their coats look like? Would any of them be magical? Would they all be able to sing, dance, flirt like their father?

Soon, little ones, he mused. We'll get to meet each other soon enough. Just promise you'll all take it easy on me when you decide to come out.

On his way back to the den, Mistoffelees spotted a golden queen carefully stepping out on the roof of an abandoned car, trying to find a dry spot to sit or lie down. He began walking—or rather, waddling- towards her, having intended to speak to this particular queen for a while now.

"Demeter?" he called out, quietly in case there were sleeping Jellicles close by. She smiled as Mistoffelees approached her. "You can't sleep?"

"I'm used to it," she said. "Can't sleep either?"

Mistoffelees shrugged lightly and patted his stomach. "There's usually something keeping me up these days."

"Should you be walking around?" Demeter asked. She'd given up on finding a suitable spot on the boot of the car and leapt down beside him. "Aren't the kittens ready to come any day now?"

"There's still a week to go," he said. "And actually, I was wondering if we could take a walk? If you're not busy, that is."

"I'm awake in the middle of the afternoon," Demeter said with a rueful smile. "I think I have time."

They walked, very slowly due to Mistoffelees' heavy self, across the junkyard. Mistoffelees found himself directing Demeter towards an empty clearing behind a makeshift bridge of old cars, a suitably private area where many Jellicles liked to practice singing in peace. He wondered if any couples had made this area their special, romantic clearing, much like he and Tugger had with their own private space.

"I like it here," Demeter said, as though reading his thoughts. Mistoffelees almost blushed, trying not to picture Demeter and Munkustrap cavorting out in the open here, at least until she continued, "My father used to come here to sing all the time. When I was a kit, he would take me here to practice."

"I enjoyed hearing your father sing at the Ball," Mistoffelees said. He found a wooden crate, still slightly damp from the rain, and sat on it to rest his legs. He hoped Demeter didn't catch his slight lie; he did remember hearing Cyrano sing at the Ball, but his mind had been in such a whirlwind that he hadn't appreciated it as much as he should have.

Mistoffelees had expected Demeter to appear sad at the mention of her father, but she smiled serenely, joining him on the crate. She didn't seem to mind the dampness of the wood. "It was nice, wasn't it?"

"Do you miss him?"

"Of course," Demeter said. "But I'm glad he finally had his chance to go to the Heaviside Layer. Maybe his new Jellicle life will be more peaceful than the last."

"Very much," Mistoffelees said. "Demeter… there is something I've wanted to ask you."

"Yes?" she asked. "Anything."

"Well…" he began, hesitating a little as he stared out across the clearing. "It's about your father, in a way. Since he's gone to the Heaviside Layer, I was wondering if-"

Mistoffelees cut himself off as Demeter's expression grew tense, but it wasn't directed at him. Her ears rose suddenly and she turned to stare behind them, over the bridge of rusted trucks.

"What is it?" Mistoffelees whispered to her. But a moment later, he felt it too; a presence, cold and menacing, making the fur on his back stand on end. He'd never felt anything so sinister before; beside him, Demeter leapt to stand, unsheathing her claws.

"Macavity," she hissed.

Mistoffelees flinched, not quite as fast as Demeter as he struggled to rise back to his feet. He looked out in the same direction she was facing, his ears twitching. He couldn't see anything, couldn't even smell anything, but he could feel Macavity's presence, even though he had never even seen the Hidden Paw with his own eyes before. He briefly marveled at how quickly Demeter had sensed him as well.

"You need to run," she whispered to him. Beneath her fur, Mistoffelees could see her muscles twitching. "Hide somewhere."

He shook his head, about to tell her that they should both run, but he wasn't sure where to run from—but a clattering at the other end of the clearing made them both whip their heads around.

It was not Macavity, but a large, gray-and-brown tom. He crouched into an attack posture, bearing his fangs at the two of them.

Demeter spat back at him, grabbing Mistoffelees by the arm and pulling him to the top of the nearest truck. "Come on, we need to get—uhn!"

She gave a short cry as she slammed into another tom, this one with grimy black fur. He grabbed Demeter by the arms and all but lifted her off the ground, throwing Mistoffelees a warning glare. Demeter spat and hissed but couldn't break the hold.

"Mistoffelees, run!"

He was torn; the thought of leaving Demeter to these unknown cats, and Macavity himself, was horrifying, but he desperately wanted to protect his kittens. Maybe he could run and find help; but by then, it might be too late for Demeter, and—

Wait! His gaze landed on one of the truck boots; it was rusted into thin metal patches, barely clinging to one another. The metal scraps were a great deal bigger than a herring can, but they couldn't be so heavy, and if he could just concentrate for one second—

The metal groaned and tore free of the rest of the truck with a speed that surprised even Mistoffelees. Focusing on the metal, he brought it wobbling through the air and—just like a tin can—sent it hurtling towards the grimy black tomcat.

It slammed into his back, making him drop Demeter. With a snarl, he whirled around, swiping his claws at the unseen assailant.

Demeter hurriedly crawled towards Mistoffelees. "Misto! Did… did you do that?"

"Yes," he breathed. There was another snarl in the distance as the other cat, the big gray-and-brown one, sprinted across the clearing towards them.

Mistoffelees spun around, dizzily searching for another piece of scrap; in his desperation, his eyes landed on the crate he'd been sitting on a few short minutes ago. It took more mental effort this time, and he only managed to dislodge a single plank of wood, but he was quick enough to send it spinning through the air, smacking the attacking tom on the side of the head. He spat and staggered on his feet.

They had to get out of here while they had the opportunity. Mistoffelees frantically looked around and tried to locate Demeter, reaching out to her as she struggled to rise again. No sooner was she on her feet than she gave a breathless cry as she was thrown back, landing painfully on the ground.

Petrified, Mistoffelees looked down to her unconscious form, and then looked back to where the attack had come from. He assumed the first tom had recovered and struck her, but the grimy-furred tom was no longer alone.

A very tall cat with wild ginger fur stood next to him, flexing a paw tipped with long gnarled claws. Somehow, he had managed to knock out Demeter without even touching her. His dark eyes glittered beneath a bushy brow, the corner of his mouth twisted into a humorless grin, revealing a glint of fang.

The cold, creeping sense increased tenfold. Macavity. This was Macavity.

Mistoffelees' throat went dry. He placed a protective hand on his heavy stomach and took a few steps back, instinctively wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and the villainous cat. Stories about his misdeeds were rampant in the junkyard, each one more dreadful than the next.

He had barely made it two steps back when the scruff of his neck was viciously grabbed, making him gasp from the sudden pain.

"Don't struggle, don't scream," the gray-and-brown tom whispered darkly into his ear. His breath stank of fish gone bad. "Or I'll slash your ripe little belly."

Mistoffelees wanted to scream, wanted to cry, but the big tom's threat hung heavily in the air. He stared up at Macavity; deep, cold eyes stared back. In the mid-afternoon sun, his fur looked like fire. He seemed somewhat puzzled as he stared at Mistoffelees, his stony eyes pointedly landing on the round stomach. After a few moments of scrutiny, Macavity laughed. It was not a mocking laugh, but one of genuine amusement.

The tom tightened his grip around Mistoffelees' scruff, giving him a shake. It was becoming difficult to breathe. "Well, boss?" he asked coarsely.

"This is it," Macavity said. His voice was deep and poised. "This is definitely it."

The black cat at Macavity's side gave his master a rather dubious look. "You sure 'bout this? That doesn't look like a queen. Looks like a tom who ate too many rats."

"He may be a tom," Macavity said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But he's the one I'm looking for. Bring them."

"Both of them?" the black tom said, balefully looking at Demeter's supine form. He seemed reluctant to have to drag a prisoner of his own.

"Oh yes," Macavity purred. He gave Mistoffelees a long, leering look that made him feel sick, and made a grand show of sniffing in Demeter's direction. "Both of them."

The brown-and-gray tom pushed Mistoffelees forward as the other cat gave a lengthy sigh and bent down to grab Demeter, slinging her carelessly over his shoulder. Macavity had already disappeared from the clearing.

Mistoffelees tried not to whimper, not wishing to give the oversized tom any reason for violence. He was roughly led to climb over the makeshift bridge of old trucks, away from the populated part of the junkyard and through a hole in the south side of the fence. The wooden planks had been recently burned and still smelled of smoke. So, that was how Macavity and his crew had gained access. He had no chance to scream for help now, or to be seen by a passing Jellicle. As though sensing his distress, the kittens began to frantically kick and squirm.

The way Macavity had looked at him was unnerving; Mistoffelees was certain this way no random attack. Judging by the stories passed around the junkyard, Macavity was not known for senseless acts of violence. Every action had a plan, a purpose.

The thought made Mistoffelees shudder, as he was roughly marched away from the junkyard. The question now was- what on earth did Macavity want with him?


	17. The Stench of Macavity

Tugger woke with a start. It was dead quiet in the den, and for a few bleary moments he wondered what had roused him from his sleep, before realization hit: he was alone.

Wait. How long had he been asleep? He hadn't meant to doze off, he'd only intended to rest his eyes for the usual few minutes it took for Mistoffelees to go outside and take care of his needs. How long had he been gone, Tugger wondered?

Shaking himself out his sleep, Tugger scrambled for the den's exit and peeked outside. It was getting cloudy again and the sun was on its way to setting; hadn't it been sunny when Mistoffelees had gotten up earlier? He'd been gone too long. Much too long.

Tugger quickly ran out into the junkyard. His mate could have gotten hurt, or struck down with a birthing pain. Or maybe he had simply snuck off for a walk to get away from Tugger; as much as the thought irritated him, he desperately hoped that was the case, that it wasn't anything more dire.

Still, he couldn't have gone too far. A quick scan of the main area of the junkyard, even from on top of the overlarge tire, proved useless. With an anxious sigh, Tugger leapt down from the tire, glimpsing Jenny's den not too far away. Maybe Mistoffelees had been feeling unwell. Maybe he had gone straight to Jenny's.

It was still terribly early, but Tugger loudly knocked on the entrance to Jenny's den, beating away at the wood until a bleary-eyed Skimbleshanks came to answer.

The orange tabby took a second to realize who had come frantically knocking, and gave a gasp. "Oh! Is it time for the kits? Jenny! Tugger's here!"

"No, no," Tugger said. Skimble's reaction confirmed it; Mistoffelees wasn't there either. His anxiety doubled. "I can't find Mistoffelees. I thought he may have been here, but-"

"Right, then!" Jenny cheerily said, bounding towards the door. If she had just been fast asleep, it was impossible to tell now. "Just let me gather a few things first and we can go. Kittens always like to come when everyone's asleep, isn't that—goodness, what's wrong?"

The cheeriness instantly disappeared when she spotted the grim looks on both toms' faces. "I can't find Mistoffelees," Tugger said again. "I don't know if something's happened, or if he's in pain somewhere or…"

Jenny threw up a paw. "Calm down," she said, every bit the take-charge queen that she was. "Are you certain he's missing, dear? He hasn't gone for a walk, gone to visit someone?"

Tugger shook his head. "He wouldn't have. He promised he'd be outside just a minute. Something's wrong." He nearly squeaked the last word out; he didn't mean to sound so discomposed, but it was a struggle to keep panic from settling in.

"Skimble," Jenny said, laying a hand on her mate's arm. "Go find Munkustrap and tell him we might have an emergency. I'm going to run to Jezebel's and Jellylorum's and make sure Mistoffelees isn't there; I did tell him to find those two, if he had to. Tugger, are you able to focus enough for some tracking?"

"Yes," Tugger said. He would never admit how thankful he was that Jenny was in control now.

"Then go back to your den, and follow his scent as best as you can. Skimble and Munkustrap will come join you." She was already pushing them both out of her den. "Now go, and try to stay calm, Tugger. Whatever's going on, we'll find him."

Tugger had a job now, which helped him focus his terrified, nervous energy. Last week's incident had been bad enough—he never again wanted to wake up to the sound of Mistoffelees screaming in pain in the far distance—but the thought that he may have slipped up, and not managed to keep his mate safe despite his best promises, was killing him.

He ran at full speed and was back at his den in seconds. He stuck his head inside just enough to recapture Mistoffelees' scent—not that he could ever forget it, or mistake it for anything else. His mate still smelled mostly as he did before becoming pregnant, but since then it had become permeated with an underlying, irresistibly musky scent.

Tugger's pulse was racing as he exited the den and tried his best to follow the scent, focusing on the most recent trail. He tracked a rather meandering path back to the center of the junkyard, near the old car—so maybe Mistoffelees had simply gone for a short walk? He felt a glimmer of hope as he recognized a second, equally strong scent—that of Demeter's. He hadn't thought to check Munkustrap's den, but maybe Mistoffelees had retreated there for whatever reason, and Skimble was about to find him there.

But then the trail continued in the opposite direction, leaving Tugger fearful once more. It led straight to the clearing by the pile of old trucks, the spot where he and Munkustrap had observed Demeter and her father a few days before the Ball. As he realized this, Tugger began to sprint; sound did not travel well from that clearing, and if Mistoffelees was calling out for help, it would have been difficult to hear him. But if Demeter was with him, then surely she would try to help?

His heart skipped a beat as he scrambled to the top of a truck and surveyed the area; the clearing was empty. If Mistoffelees and Demeter had come here, they were gone now. Trying to calm his erratic breathing, Tugger leapt down from the roof of the truck and into the clearing, nearly tripping over a large, rusted piece of metal. It looked like a piece from the boot of a car. He ignored it, instead trying to pick up his mate's scent again.

He found it, along with Demeter's scent, but suddenly he growled at the air and nearly leapt back on instinct; there were more than two scents here, and he did not like them one bit. They were unfamiliar, unclean, belonging to toms. At least three, as best as Tugger could tell. Two of them smelled like dirty strays. The third smelled like…

Tugger went cold all over. Macavity. He had been young when the Hidden Paw had last attacked the junkyard, but the awful scent still lingered in his memory.

Macavity had been here. Somehow, he had broken into the junkyard, and had known exactly what to seek out. He had known, somehow, about Mistoffelees, and had come here specifically to snatch him away. By some unfortunate chance, Demeter must have gotten mixed up in it; had Macavity taken her too, or had he killed her outright?

But how? How had Macavity known to come here?

Panic was making Tugger irrational. With a snarl on his lips, he turned back and ran towards the middle of the junkyard. A growing number of concerned, confused cats were now awake and about, no doubt alerted by Jenny's search, and they stared at Tugger with wide eyes as he stomped past.

He didn't look at any of them. He caught one cat's scent and immediately spotted him in the crowd, flanked by his sibling.

Mungojerrie seemed as confused as the other Jellicles as Tugger made a beeline for him, unsheathed his claws, and caught him by the throat.

"Where is he?" Tugger hissed. Rumpelteazer leapt away from her brother, staring at Tugger with wide, terrified eyes.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Mungojerrie cried, helpless as Tugger slammed him against a pile of broken wooden furniture. The force dislodged a rocking chair and it loudly crashed to the ground, throwing splinters all about.

"Shut it!" Tugger yelled. "Where is he!"

"Who? What?"

"Tugger, please stop!" Rumpelteazer shrieked.

"Where is Mistoffelees?" Tugger spat. He bared his fangs and leaned in close to Mungojerrie. "Macavity was here! I know you had something to do with this! You and that damned stray from Victoria Grove! Now what did you do? What did you tell him?"

"Nothing!" Mungojerrie trembled. "Nothing, I swear! I don't know what's going on!"

"Tugger! Let him go. Right now."

Tugger's hackles were raised and there was fire in his eyes; at Munkustrap's command, it was difficult to stand down, but Tugger did, releasing the terrified Mungojerrie.

His muscles tense, Tugger whirled around. Munkustrap was standing just behind him, Skimble at his side. Both had their hands raised as though unsure if they would still need to restrain Tugger.

"What is wrong with you?" Munkustrap hissed. "You don't attack a fellow Jellicle under any-"

"Macavity was here!" Tugger yelled. "Over in the—here!"

He was too edgy to be eloquent. Instead, he whirled around and sprinted back towards the clearing, Munkustrap and Skimble – and surely half the junkyard—close on his tail.

Tugger could still smell Mistoffelees in the area, and Demeter as well, but the stink of Macavity was still all over the place. It was only to his marginal relief that he realized he couldn't smell any blood. Neither had been injured, or killed, and that was something.

Munkustrap leapt down behind him, still regarding Tugger with a highly dubious look, but he seemed to tense as he followed Tugger's lead, sniffing the air about them.

"Strange cats were here," Munkustrap said, his ears twitching erratically at the realization. Alonzo quickly followed, landing soundly from the top of a truck and darting about the clearing as though the strangers might still be lurking around. "And that scent, it's definitely-"

"Macavity," Tugger sighed desperately. There was no mistaking it; Munkustrap knew the scent as well as he did. The other Jellicles around them, those who were old enough to remember Macavity, hissed and spat as they recognized the wretched scent.

"He took Mistoffelees," Tugger said. Despite his pain, he hesitated before his brother. "And—I'm sorry Munk, but-"

"Demeter," Munkustrap said, easily finding his own mate's scent in the air. At once his collected air vanished, replaced with the same panic Tugger himself felt. "She was here too."

"Oh goodness, no." It was Jellylorum; both she and Jezebel had been roused by Jenny and the three queens had pushed their way to the front of the crowd, out of breath. "Why does Macavity keep coming here? Why won't he leave any of our families alone?"

Tugger began to pace, flexing his claws. He wanted to run somewhere, tear into something, but didn't know where to run to. If he ever were to get his claws on Macavity, he would tear that son of a pollicle a few shiny new holes. In his frantic pacing, he passed by Mungojerrie, glaring down hard at the small tom.

"I swear," Mungojerrie said. He had dropped down to all fours, trying to make himself as small as possible. Rumpelteazer nervously hovered by his side. "I swear, both of you, I didn't know a thing about this. Nothing except what I already told you!"

"We believe you, 'Jerrie," Munkustrap said grimly. His tail began to lash wildly as Alonzo came running back towards the group.

"They broke through the fence behind the metal," Alonzo said breathlessly. "Burned a hole clean through it."

"Burned?" Munkustrap gasped. "I knew Macavity could do some terrible things, but…"

"You were right, Munk," Tugger sighed. "You were right. I should have warned Misto. I should have told him Macavity was prowling around. It could have made a difference, it could have…"

"Shut it," Munkustrap said. He bared his fangs, something Tugger had rarely seen him do. It had the desired effect; he clamped his mouth shut. "Yes, you should have told him. I should have forced you. But it's done, and now we need to figure out how to get them back. Come on."

Munkustrap's words stung him to the core and Tugger felt his heart sink. All this because he had wanted to spare Mistoffelees any more stress on top of the impending birth of the kittens. He felt sick now, imagining what Macavity might have been doing to him, imagining his mate scared and hurt and alone.

He had promised himself he would protect Mistoffelees from any danger posed by Macavity. He had sworn not to leave him out of his sight, not for a moment. He had sworn to keep his mate, and his kittens, safe from any threat.

He had failed.


	18. Elmsmere Way

Mistoffelees began to pant in pain and exhaustion. The grimy tom had been dragging him away from the junkyard for nearly an hour, and it was getting difficult to continue the pace. He had no idea where the toms were taking him—he hadn't dared asked them, and they so far they had both remained grudgingly silent. The gray-and-brown one still had one hand on the scruff of his neck, the other clenched tight around his arm, while the black tom held the still-unconscious Demeter over his shoulder. Mistoffelees hoped she wasn't badly hurt.

He wondered how long it would take for the others to notice he and Demeter were missing. Knowing Tugger, he would be up quickly enough upon realizing his mate was missing. At first, Mistoffelees had harbored a small hope that help would soon be on its way—that he would see Munkustrap, Alonzo, Tugger even—come running, ready to fight. But as they were dragged further and further away from the junkyard, the hope began to fade. With every passing minute, the distance kept growing between themselves and potential help, and on top of that, he had no idea where they were going. They had taken him and Demeter out through a wide, grassy field, and all he knew was that it was the opposite direction from Victoria Grove. Mistoffelees had never explored much of what lay on the other side of the junkyard.

He had quickly noticed, to his consternation, that Macavity had disappeared from the sad procession just after they'd left the junkyard. Mistoffelees was frightened of the implications, hoping the cat hadn't returned to the junkyard to cause more trouble, or to hurt anyone. He was terrified at the thought of Tugger blindly running after them, trying to take on Macavity. Mistoffelees loved his mate dearly, but had to admit he was no fighter, and Macavity looked like such a strong brute that no one Jellicle could take him down.

But there was something else about Macavity, about his scent, his presence, which left Mistoffelees with a strange, unnerving sense. There was something about him that Mistoffelees couldn't quite put into words, an aura that none of the Jellicles possessed, but that seemed familiar all the same. He'd never met Macavity—he was certain of that—but whatever energy hovered around the Hidden Paw was certainly familiar.

They were leaving the grassy area now, stepping through a field with dry yellowing plants. Mistoffelees doubted there was much he could do, short of fighting and putting both him and Demeter in danger, to delay their progress away from the junkyard. Still, he needed to try.

"I need to slow down," Mistoffelees said. Neither tom reacted, though the black tomcat's ear twitched as his prisoner spoke up for the first time. "Please; it hurts me to walk right now."

"Looks to me you could use the exercise," the black tom muttered, his pace unchanging.

"Could I at least stop and rest for a moment?" He stumbled slightly for effect, though it wasn't so exaggerated; the rapid marching was worsening his always-present body aches and the summer heat was making him terribly warm and uncomfortable.

There came no answer from the bored-looking hench-cat, nor from the one who continued to march Mistoffelees forward.

Time for another tactic. "I feel sick to my stomach," he said plaintively.

This time, the black tom sighed, looking for a moment as though he would relent and allow a break. The hench-cat behind Mistoffelees, however, gave his scruff a quick shake and sneered, "Just try not to mess yourself, we're almost there."

Mistoffelees sighed, wincing at the grip on his neck. So much for his ridiculous plan. As it turned out, 'almost there' translated to at least another hour of walking, at least long enough for the sun to set, enough for Mistoffelees to lose track of time. It was a small blessing at least that the kittens were staying still inside him, as though lulled to sleep by his steady walking.

Before he could wonder how much further they could possibly have to go, the tom who carried Demeter gave a long, huffing sigh. "Finally! I'm breakin' my back here."

"Oh, shut it," the other one said. "At least you get to carry the pretty queen instead of this whining little thing here."

"You sure that isn't a queen Macavity's got you draggin' back home there?"

Mistoffelees said nothing. They were trying to wind him up, or they were genuinely bored, but he didn't want to engage the two grimy toms in any way. In the distance, he saw what had caught the first one's eye; the wide field was coming up to a road, a human-made street.

The street was deserted of life but covered in dust and detritus. There were a few rows of human houses there, half-collapsed and blackened as though a fire had ravaged through them. That would certainly explain the lack of any human presence in the area, and the fire-damaged buildings seemed to suit Macavity's tastes.

Fire again. Mistoffelees shuddered; he hated the idea of fire.

"Where are you taking us?" Mistoffelees asked. By now, his voice sounded weaker than he would have liked. It was a risk to address the hench-cats again, but they seemed more interested in mocking him than hurting him.

"I keep forgetting it doesn't sound like a queen," the black tom smirked.

"Kinda smells like one, though," the other one said, pulling on the scruff of Mistoffelees' neck to sniff him. Mistoffelees shuddered, but the tom soon pushed him forward again. He wondered if Macavity had given them any restrictions about mistreating the prisoners. "Anyway, this'll be your new home. Welcome to Elmsmere Way, or what's left of it."

He was pushed down the road, through the rows of abandoned houses, all singed or burnt or otherwise terribly damaged by fire. They seemed to be marching towards the most intact-looking of the houses, a single-storey home with scorched walls that otherwise looked solid. Mistoffelees knew without asking that it was the place where Macavity made his home. There had once been grass in front of the house but it was now dead, dried, and covered in old earth.

The two hench-cats didn't seem particular brutal or unstable, so Mistoffelees chanced a risky question. "Where is Macavity?"

"Boss likes to play disappearing tricks," the black tom said, huffing as he re-settled Demeter on his shoulder. "Don't worry; he'll be by soon enough. Count on it."

The other tom snickered, and Mistoffelees thought it best to remain silent for the moment.

He was made to march up a path of cracked stones towards the house. The front door had been boarded up by humans, but there was a long crack by the bottom of the doorframe. The black tom stepped in first, crouching so as not to smack Demeter's body against the top of the crack. Mistoffelees was pushed through next.

The inside of the house smelled an awful lot like Macavity: cold, sinister, with a lasting scent of stale smoke. The same aura which had bothered Mistoffelees earlier was present even inside the house.

There was junk and remnants of furniture all over the floor. Mistoffelees expected to be tossed to the ground, but the two toms continued leading them towards a wide doorway which opened onto a rickety wooden staircase, leading down into a basement area.

The black tom leapt quickly down the stairs, Demeter dangling limply from his shoulder. Mistoffelees found it difficult to negotiate the rather tall steps, and for the first time, was grateful for the other tom's grip on him; at least it kept him from losing his balance and falling.

The basement area was a mess. The wall were singed and smelled of very old smoke, and a single, high window let in a thin strip of moonlight. Human furniture littered the floor—tossed in piles, pushed together in a disorderly mess, as though humans had tried to rifle through the stock but had gotten discouraged and left it all for rubbish.

The toms led them to a marginally clear spot near the middle of the basement. Someone had left a pile of blankets there— clean and new, most likely placed there by Macavity himself. Mistoffelees shuddered at the thought of Macavity carefully preparing their little prison before strolling off to the junkyard for his prey.

The brown-and-gray tom released him with a small shove. Mistoffelees was thankful, at least, that the other one placed Demeter on the floor with some care, instead of tossing her down like a stuffed toy. Taking great care not to topple over onto his face, Mistoffelees lowered himself into a sitting position, wincing at the ache in his legs and hips. It took a few tries before he could roll himself onto all fours; once he did, he crawled over to Demeter, though he kept his gaze firmly on the two toms, hoping they hadn't found his awkward maneuvering to be funny.

The black one was popping his spine with a groan of relief, while the brown-and-gray one made a great show of looking down at Demeter's body.

"What do you want with us?" Mistoffelees asked.

The black tom shrugged and dusted off his fur. "Boss is the one who's interested in you. He'll let you know when he's good and ready."

"But why is he-"

"Better get comfortable," the tom said. "You never know when he might pop up again."

And with that, the two hench-cats turned their backs on him and bounded back up the stairs. Mistoffelees watched them go with despair; he still had no better idea of why they had been brought here. From the top of the stairs, he could faintly hear the voices of the two cats as they sat and began to converse. Obviously, they would be watching the basement entrance; he couldn't hope to run out and slip past them, not that he expected to be able to do much running any time soon.

Mistoffelees sighed resignedly; he would have to wait for Macavity himself, then.

Leaning down, Mistoffelees balanced his weight onto his elbows so he could reach Demeter, and gently licked her face. She had been unconscious for a terribly long time and he worried that she had been struck too hard to wake up, but soon she moaned lightly and began to stir, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes.

"Demeter?" Mistoffelees whispered, as though afraid the toms would hear him from the top of the stairs. "Can you hear me?"

"Very clearly," Demeter murmured.

"How do you feel?"

"Like a pollicle stepped all over me," she groaned, lifting a trembling paw to rub at her face. She blinked a few times and then seemed to notice they weren't in the junkyard anymore.

"Where are we?" she asked, scrambling to sit up on her haunches. Her eyes widened as they settled on Mistoffelees. "Are you hurt?"

"No no, I'm fine," Mistoffelees said. He did feel better now that he was off his aching legs and finally able to rest. And aside from making him walk the hours-long journey to Elmsmere Way, the hench-cats had been surprisingly gentle with them.

"The kittens, are they-?" Demeter's hand hovered over his stomach, as though afraid to touch it.

"They're fine too," he quickly said.

Demeter sighed heavily. Her eyes flitted about the basement, taking in the sight of all the junk. "Where are we?" she asked. "Is… is Macavity here?"

"We're in a house, in a place called Elmsmere Way," Mistoffelees said. He shifted about on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him. "And I don't know where Macavity is, he disappeared as soon as we left the junkyard. The toms said he would be here soon, though."

"Toms?" Demeter asked. She had spotted the blankets left on the floor and crawled towards them; she pulled out the topmost one, a blue cotton blanket.

"The ones who attacked us at the junkyard," Mistoffelees said. He watched as Demeter spread the first blanket out on the floor, and then repeated the action with another one, creating a nest. "I don't know who they are; they're guarding us from that staircase now."

"I wondered who that was," Demeter muttered. The toms' voices could still be heard from the basement.

She finished piling the blankets together, topping the makeshift nest with a grayish woolen blanket. The moment it was done, she reached for Mistoffelees. "Come on, come lie here; you'll be more comfortable."

"Oh—thank you," Mistoffelees said, bashful at the realization that she had assembled the blankets together primarily for him. He held on to Demeter's arms as she helped him crawl over to the nest, then to lie down on his side. He breathed in relief; it did feel much more comfortable than the hard floor and after that exhausting walk, it was nice to finally relax his muscles.

"Thank you," he said again, and patted the blankets next to him. "We might as well both be comfortable. I don't know how long we'll be here."

Demeter nodded somberly and curled up next to him; though it was summer, the basement was rather cold and it felt nice to share heat. Though Mistoffelees did his best to hide it, a sudden panic rose in him as he realized that no, they didn't know how long Macavity intended to keep them here. Or what he wanted with them. Or if he intended to ever release them.

His kittens were due in a few short days; somehow, they would have to get out of here, and get back to the junkyard, before they were ready to come.

"I'm sure Munkustrap will find us," Mistoffelees murmured, as much for his own benefit as for Demeter's.

She nodded again and her features tightened, as though she was trying not to cry. Mistoffelees had an idea of what was going through her head; surely she was imagining her mother's time spent as Macavity's captive, and how it hadn't ended well. Nobody had managed to find her; at least not in time.

Mistoffelees grimaced. Things would be different this time. They had to be. He felt like crying himself, and cradled a protective hand around his stomach, gently rubbing the pronounced swell.

"I'm sorry," Demeter said after a few moments' silence.

"What?" Mistoffelees asked. It made so little sense for her to apologize that he was almost sure he'd misheard. "Why?"

"Mungojerrie warned us," Demeter said. She had drawn her legs up close to her chest; her tail was lashing miserably behind her. "He'd heard that Macavity was interested in the junkyard these days. That he knew someone was going to have kittens."

"Oh," Mistoffelees said quietly. "But how could he know?"

Demeter tensely shrugged. "We don't know, but we should have warned you. We told Tugger about the threat, but he… we decided not to burden you with the knowledge. We should have told you anyway. I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Mistoffelees said. Now he understood why Tugger and the others had been so completely overprotective these last few weeks; he felt guilty as he thought back to the times he'd snuck off from his mate for a bit of alone time. It was no wonder Tugger kept panicking. Mistoffelees felt even guiltier now at the thought of Tugger scrambling around the junkyard, desperately wondering where he'd gone off to hide this time.

"We shouldn't have gone to the clearing," Demeter said ruefully. "It wasn't safe to be far away from everyone…"

"Demeter," Mistoffelees said firmly. "I don't think any of that would have made much difference. If Macavity wanted to find his way into the junkyard, he would have done it no matter what."

And at that, he began to feel queasy; Macavity had somehow known about the kittens, and had broken into the junkyard specifically to target him, judging by the way the hench-cat had spoken. It had been planned, targeted. That Demeter was taken too was surely a horrible coincidence, and he now felt as though he should apologize to her for getting her captive as well.

The upstairs chattering of the two toms suddenly stopped; Mistoffelees felt Demeter tense, ears twitching and skin prickling, as a third voice, commanding and poised, joined the conversation. Macavity had arrived.

The wooden stairs creaked as someone heavily and slowly descended towards the basement area. Instinctively, Mistoffelees shifted closer to Demeter and their arms went around one another.

In the semi-darkness of the basement, Macavity looked even more menacing. He was frighteningly tall and powerfully-built; his fur was ginger, but not the warm, comforting ginger colour which belonged to other cats Mistoffelees knew. Macavity's coat was dark, blazing, streaked through with black stripes, like the remains of smoldering embers. No wonder the scent of fire and smoke seemed to be about him at all times. The brown-and-gray tom stood behind him while the black one kept watch by the stairs.

"Why are you cowering?" Macavity asked, staring down at the two with unreadable eyes. He did not yell, or speak with menace, which was both puzzling and disturbing. "Show some dignity, like the Jellicles you are. On your feet, both of you."

It was surely wiser to obey. Demeter rose to her feet first, and helped Mistoffelees to gain his footing as carefully as possible. Mistoffelees wavered on his feet a bit, still exhausted and sore from the long walk, but he willed himself to stand strong. He crossed his arms over his stomach, feeling terribly vulnerable in front of Macavity's piercing gaze.

The brown-and-gray tom noticed the gesture and sniggered, only to be silenced as Macavity gave him a sharp hiss, and jerked his paw towards Demeter. The hench-cat immediately obeyed and went to stand beside Demeter; he did not touch her, but it was clear he was meant to restrain her if she so much as twitched.

Macavity took a few careful steps closer to Mistoffelees, slowly as though afraid to spook him, and stood so close that Mistoffelees could smell nothing but the strange, cold aura and the lingering smoke. He tried not to tremble as Macavity leaned in and drew in a great breath, taking in his scent.

"Mmm," Macavity purred. "Well, look at this. Mistoffelees, wasn't it? Of all the Jellicles, you turn out to be the one I'm looking for. A tiny little tom. You weren't even born when I last visited, were you?"

Mistoffelees said nothing; at his side, he could feel Demeter tensing at the mention of Macavity's last 'visit'.

"I could smell you from miles away, you know," Macavity continued. "You smell like a ripe pregnant queen. And you reek of magic."

Mistoffelees couldn't help the widening of his eyes. So Macavity could somehow… smell his magic? Sense it? And suddenly it all made sense, explained why Macavity had a cold, creeping, familiar energy about him: it was magic. Somehow, he also commanded magic. And from the feel of it, it was a great deal more powerful than Mistoffelees'.

Macavity caught his reaction, and grinned. "Ah, so you didn't know about our little common bond, did you? We're a very rare breed, us magical cats. Every so often, the Everlasting Cat just seems to favour one over another." Macavity raised a paw, spreading out his long, clawed fingers. "Do you want to see what sort of magic I can do?"

Mistoffelees knew it was wiser to stay quiet, but he couldn't help it. "No," he nervously whispered.

"No?" Macavity grinned. "Maybe later, then. That's quite all right; I'm more interested in you right now. So tell me… what can you do?"

"W-what?"

"Your magic, silly kit! What does it do? What have you learned so far?"

"I... I don't really know…" Mistoffelees stammered. It took all his will to resist glancing down at his stomach, especially as he felt one of the kittens roll over and begin to kick. "I can make small things float around, and… and make them disappear and reappear."

"Yes, and?" Macavity asked. He was beginning to sound impatient.

"I can make shadows and lights change."

"And that's all?"

"That's all I've learned to do so far," Mistoffelees said. He was no fool; he knew what Macavity was hinting at, but he planned on playing the idiot for as long as possible.

"Is it really?" Macavity said. His grin grew even wider; his fangs were stark-white against his dark ginger fur. "Are you sure there aren't any other interesting magic tricks you've performed lately?"

Mistoffelees couldn't help it; he flinched as Macavity reached down with those huge, sharp hands, grasping his trembling arms to remove them from where they covered his stomach.

"You're shaking," Macavity chided. His tone was cloyingly sweet, disturbingly gentle. It made Mistoffelees feel sick. "Calm down; we're just having a conversation about our magic, aren't we?"

He was anything but calm as Macavity laid a large, heavy hand on his stomach; his eyes were fastened to those long, viciously sharp claws, resting just against the black-and-white fur, and his heart pounded furiously at the thought of them sinking into his abdomen.

"This is a trick even I haven't figured out yet," Macavity said appreciatively. The active kitten kicked against the large paw, making Macavity chuckle. "You're quite the powerful little Jellicle, aren't you? I've been looking for someone like you for quite some time."

"Why?" Mistoffelees asked. He was nearly breathless with revulsion as Macavity prodded back against the moving kitten; the thought of the Hidden Paw touching his kittens in any way was horrifying him. He almost sagged with relief when Macavity gave him one last pat and removed his hand.

"We'll discuss it," Macavity said, giving him one long, appraising look. "But not at the moment. It's necessary for cats in your delicate condition to require rest, isn't it?"

Mistoffelees had to stop himself from demanding an answer, instead cradling his stomach, as though it would be enough to protect the kittens from any blow or scratch. Macavity had frightened him before; but now, the knowledge that the evil cat was also capable of magic truly terrified him.

Macavity turned to Demeter, and made a sound as though he had only just noticed she was standing there. Mistoffelees could see the agitation in her face, the bristling of her fur.

"And you. Demeter," Macavity purred. "Do you remember me? I remember you. You were so young. You smell like your mother did."

"You rotten bastard!" Demeter cried. She lunged for him, but Macavity did not as much as flinch. The brown-and-gray tom had already grasped her by the arms before she could even try to scratch. She screamed as the tom's claws met her skin and he wrestled her to the ground with a laugh, though he did at least pin her to the blankets instead of the bare floor.

"And you sound like your mother did, also," Macavity said. He watched impassively as Demeter continued to struggle against the large hench-cat's grip, and finally gave up with a whimper. Horrible as it was, Mistoffelees was relieved when she stopped fighting; the longer they could go with escaping injury, the better.

"All right, Bixbite, I think she understands now," Macavity said. Under the command, the tom released Demeter and carefully backed away to rejoin his master. "This is your home now, and I suggest you both start getting comfortable. If you need more blankets, just ask. Cheswick will bring you something to eat soon."

"This isn't our home!" Demeter spat. "Son of a pollicle!"

Mistoffelees flinched, certain that either Macavity or the hench-cat named Bixbite would strike her, but they both calmly joined the black tom and leapt up the staircase as though they hadn't heard her. Dizzy with relief, now that they were alone, Mistoffelees painstakingly lowered himself onto all fours and crawled over to Demeter, who sat curled up on the blanket nest, panting furiously as though in a trance.

"Demeter-?" he tentatively asked, stroking the fur of her shoulder.

Her reaction was immediate; she threw her arms around him and began to cry, though she still had enough presence of mind not to crush him. Mistoffelees could hardly blame her; it was all he could do to keep from crying himself, and he hugged her back.

"I'm sorry," she said waveringly, after a few minutes. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," Mistoffelees said. "We'll be all right. Munkustrap and Tugger will find us."

"And if they don't, we'll find our own way out of here somehow," Demeter said shakily.

"We will."

It wasn't exactly a lie, but Mistoffelees hadn't the faintest idea how they would get themselves out of this predicament. He was no fighter, and even if he hadn't been heavily pregnant, he doubted he and Demeter could overpower Macavity, let alone the two toms. He doubted levitating a cork would be much of a match for any magic Macavity was capable of.

They had no choice; they would have to stay calm, and pray to the Everlasting Cat that the Jellicles would track them down. Mistoffelees knew that Tugger and Munkustrap wouldn't rest until they were located, though it was not a guarantee they would be found, only a guarantee that their mates would work themselves to death. He remembered how poorly Cyrano faired after the death of Demeter's mother.

Mistoffelees sighed and fought the urge to cry again. Demeter nuzzled his chest and the two stayed wrapped around one another, watching the moonlight disappear through the tiny basement window.


	19. Following a Lead

Tugger sat in Munkustrap's den, staring at his paws. If he'd have had any energy left, he knew he would have been pacing the den like a caged beast, nervous and irritable. Instead, he miserably sat on his haunches, and did not bother to look up to any of the other assembled cats as they tersely discussed their next course of action.

The sun had risen again and was high in the sky now. Tugger hadn't slept since the previous day; none of them had. It had been a full day since Demeter and Mistoffelees had been taken from the junkyard; most of that time had been spent outside their territory, tracking the two missing cats' scents to the best of everyone's abilities.

After finding the burnt fence and the scents of Macavity and his hench-cats, Tugger, Munkustrap and Alonzo had immediately set out, sending Skimble to gather any others who could help with the search. Within minutes, every able-bodied Jellicle was out, and it was all they could do to prevent the kittens from joining in as well.

But, to Tugger's horror, the chase ended in disaster: the scent trails had vanished alarmingly quickly. It was impossible that Mistoffelees and Demeter's scents had already dissipated, or that the trails had gone cold. There was something at work, something sinister that was preventing them from following Macavity and his captives.

It was a severe setback, but they still continued to track, looking for another sign of the cats, a new scent trail, or even the escaping group itself. They'd run about tirelessly for the remainder of the day and then the entire night, returning to the junkyard only when the sun began to rise again, too exhausted to continue.

They had found nothing, and there were no scent trails to follow. A new plan was needed, though prospects were grim.

A rustle at the entrance of the den barely made Tugger raise his head. Alonzo crawled in, panting harshly, and heavily sat on the floor next to Munkustrap. Skimble and Jenny sat on the opposite side. All were weary and grim-faced.

"Nothing, I'm afraid," Alonzo said, still out of breath. He had been the last to come back from the latest patrol, and the news had not been unexpected. "Not a sign, not a scent, nothing."

Munkustrap sighed. "They could be anywhere. We can't keep exhausting ourselves trying to run in every direction and hope to stumble upon them."

"We don't know where to look, Munkustrap," Jenny said quietly. "You may be a bit too young to remember, but we spent weeks trying to find Macavity when…" She hesitated, not wishing to upset Munkustrap any further with the mention of Demeter's mother. "Well, we never succeeded in finding him. Wherever he makes his home, we don't know where it is."

"And we don't have weeks to find them," Tugger murmured, his head still bowed, staring down at the object between his paws.

Before setting out outside the junkyard to follow the scent trails, Tugger had run back to his den and grabbed something permeated with Mistoffelees' scent to aid in the tracking: the little cork-kitten, which Mistoffelees always liked to touch and look at. He held it now between his paws, running the white ribbon-tail between his fingers. Mistoffelees had made him promise not to pull the tails of the real kittens.

Tugger growled low in his throat. It was that, or he was about to start sobbing. He couldn't help but think of what Macavity was doing to his mate—was he touching him, hurting him in any way? The kittens were due practically any day now; what if they came early? Everlasting, what if they had already come? What would Macavity do to them? He didn't want that damn cat anywhere near his family.

He glanced at Munkustrap; his brother must have been going through a similar inner turmoil with his own mate missing, but he was managing to project a stony exterior. The Jellicles were expecting him to stay in control during this crisis. Tugger did not envy him his job.

"He's right," Jenny said, and for a moment Tugger didn't realize she was agreeing with him; he had been so lost in his own thoughts. "Those little ones can't be born in Macavity's lair, Munkustrap."

"I'm aware," Munkustrap snapped. It wasn't directed at Jenny; rather he glared over at Tugger as he spoke. "I wanted to take precautions and protect Mistoffelees, but others disagreed."

Tugger's head snapped up. "I did protect him. But he's not a kitten, Munk; I couldn't watch him every second of every day."

"He should have been informed," Munkustrap hissed. "He should have been warned. Then he wouldn't have wandered off alone where it wasn't safe."

"Well, he wasn't alone, was he?" Tugger yelled, baring his fangs. "But Demeter didn't do much to protect him, did she? Or herself for that matter."

It was exactly the wrong thing to say, and Tugger knew it. Munkustrap leapt to his feet with a snarl and lunged for Tugger.

Maybe Munkustrap hadn't intended to hurt him, but claws met skin and Tugger growled as his chest was scratched. He was only prevented from swiping back as Skimble pinned his arms down; across from him, Alonzo slammed bodily into Munkustrap's chest to keep him from swiping again.

Tugger made a token effort to struggle against Skimble's grip, though he really didn't know what he would do if he got free. Munkustrap was staring at him, panting harshly.

"Okay, stop it!" Alonzo said. "Both of you, calm down! This can't work if we're clawing each other's eyes out!"

"I will not have you say such terrible things to each other!" Jenny huffed. She had risen to her feet as quickly as the toms and looked ready to snatch them both by their scruffs. "Now sit and be reasonable. Your mates are both strong; they will find a way to survive until we can find them."

Tugger felt Skimble's hold loosen around his arms. He had no fight left in him anyway, and slumped to the ground. The scratches left by Munkustrap's claws were shallow, but they were beginning to sting.

Alonzo took a wary step away from Munkustrap; the protector still stood, rigidly, glaring down at his brother, but his breathing had slowed and he was beginning to calm down.

"But Misto…" Tugger sighed. The cork-kitten had flown from his grip during the brief scuffle; he reached down for it, straightening one of the bent wire-paws. "He's in no condition to… to… fight, or…"

"Lad, let me tell you a secret," Skimble said. "The fiercest queens I've known were pregnant. Jenny here? She got so worked up once while carrying her last litter that I thought she was going to snip my tail right off. I'm not exaggerating; she found herself a pair of scissors and everything."

From the corner of his eye, Tugger saw Jenny give a good-natured smirk. "Well, he's right," Jenny said. "Mistoffelees and Demeter will hold their own."

Though he would have liked to feel comfort at those words, Tugger could do little but dolefully stare up at Munkustrap. It was only the gentle scratching at the entrance of the den that diverted their attention from one another.

"Oh—I'm sorry to interrupt…" It was Cassandra; she had so quietly slipped in that no one noticed until she spoke. She glanced from Tugger to Munkustrap as though sensing the tension, and finally decided to address Alonzo. "But some of the others are wondering what we're planning to do next, and what they can do to help."

"We may as well take this outside," Alonzo said. "It's getting crowded in here and this concerns the whole tribe, anyway."

Without waiting for Munkustrap's approval, Tugger nodded and crawled out of the den. It had gotten terribly cramped in there.

The entire tribe was gathered outside. Tugger narrowly missed bumping into Tantomile, and found her staring unsettlingly at him, Coricopat quietly looking out over her shoulder. He'd always found her to be an attractive queen, but too much of a strange one, and her twin always seemed two steps away from her at all times.

Tugger wasn't the only one who held this opinion. The twins were both known to be mystics, but they were always left to their own devices within the junkyard. Most Jellicles found them a bit odd, a novelty at best. Unlike Mistoffelees, no one ever asked them to perform any tricks.

"They are alive, still," Tantomile gently said. She had waited until Munkustrap had crawled out of the den and stood within earshot.

The protector's ears perked up. "You can feel them? Do you know where they are? How we can find them?"

The mystics glanced at each other a little regretfully. "No," Coricopat said. "We tried, but… our abilities are limited."

"We are not magical," Tantomile said apologetically. "Not like Mistoffelees. And…"

"Not like Macavity," Coricopat finished.

Tugger grimaced. He had never given much thought to Mistoffelees' magic, most likely because Mistoffelees himself had never given it much importance, beyond thinking of it as a clever way to entertain kittens.

The thought of Macavity being able to perform similar illusions, but with destruction and not entertainment in mind…

"What do you know?" Munkustrap asked. It was clear he trying not to prod or pressure the twins, but they had no other information to work with.

"Nothing that will help, we are sorry to say," Coricopat said. "We can see, and sense beyond what most do, but that sort of skill is useless against Macavity's power. He can't hide their hearts from us, but he can hide their bodies too well."

Tugger frowned, not understanding until Tantomile clarified, "We can't see where they are, most likely because Macavity is hiding his location with magic. It is exactly why their trails seemed to disappear."

"Magic, right," Munkustrap sighed grimly. He wearily ran his paw over his eyes. "But you can tell if they're alive?"

"We can," Coricopat said.

"What about the kittens?" Tugger immediately asked. "Can you tell if they're okay?"

"They are also alive, and healthy," Tantomile said. Anticipating Tugger's next question, she smoothly added, "And not yet born."

Tugger nodded gratefully, clutching at his mane to try and quell the rest of his anxiety. He hadn't bothered to groom since the previous night and his fur was getting tangled.

"Thank you both," Munkustrap said to the twins, his manner softening. "It does help to know that."

Tugger sighed and watched his brother as the twins stepped aside, allowing him to step among the gathered tribe; he was obviously exhausted from the frantic search but too consumed with anxiety to think clearly. They needed ideas.

"Maybe we should go speak with Old Deuteronomy," Alonzo said to Munkustrap. A few nearby kittens overheard and nodded vigorously; the belief that Old Deuteronomy could fix any problem was still a strong one.

"I don't want to worry him just yet," Munkustrap sighed. "I doubt there's much he could do. I doubt there's anything anyone outside the junkyard can do to help, for that matter."

There came a cough from somewhere in the crowd. "Well actually, uh…"

Tugger narrowed his eyes and zeroed in on the speaking cat; it was difficult to spot Mungojerrie, hidden as he was behind his sister. Rumpelteazer quickly shuffled out of the way once she realized they had Tugger and Munkustrap's attention.

"Maybe… maybe there are some cats who can help point us in the right direction," Mungojerrie said. "Cats from outside the junkyard."

Tugger frowned, but soon realization dawned. "You don't mean that stray from Victoria Grove, do you?"

"Erm, maybe?" Mungojerrie said. He nervously glanced to Munkustrap, who motioned him to continue. "Or something like that. The London strays know things, remember? Some of them are wrapped up with Macavity's lot. Maybe they know where he's hidin' out."

Munkustrap nodded. "This might be worth looking into."

"Are you serious?" Tugger asked balefully. "This doesn't concern the Victoria Grove strays."

"They warned us once about Macavity. If you have some better ideas, then please don't keep them to yourself."

Tugger nodded, dejected.

"All right," Munkustrap said. "Alonzo, stay in the junkyard and keep an eye on everyone. Tugger, you and I will be going to Victoria Grove. Mungojerrie, will you take us to your friends?"

Mungojerrie nodded and straightened up with energy, pleased to be part of the solution, though he kept a careful eye on Tugger.

"I'll come too," Skimble said. "You may need an extra pair of paws out there."

Tugger hastened to follow as the small procession hurried out, only to be gently restrained as Jenny placed a hand on his shoulder. "Better let me hold that while you're gone," she said quietly, motioning towards the cork-kitten still in his paw. "Misto wouldn't be very happy if you lost it in Victoria Grove, would he?"

"No, I guess not," Tugger said, and he handed her the little kitten figurine. She gave him an encouraging smile.

His legs were still tired from the previous chase, but Tugger ran on, following as Mungojerrie lead them out the junkyard, and once more towards Victoria Grove. The sky was beginning to darken with the start of another rainstorm; as unpleasant as it would be to run into the heart of London in the middle of rain, Tugger only hoped that his mate was someplace safe and dry.


	20. A Fiend in Feline Shape

"I don't understand," Demeter sighed. Mistoffelees heard her grunt with effort, then furiously scratch at something wooden, until she abandoned the effort with a huff. "There wasn't a door here before. But now there's something covering the doorway; I can't move it at all."

"It's all right," Mistoffelees said. "You'd best come back down before they hear you."

He carefully stepped around the collapsed remains of a bed frame, curling one arm around his belly and mindful not to trip over the junk littering the basement floor. A box of old spoons and forks, brittle with rust, had been upturned onto the ground and spilled into a pile of funny-looking toys, the kind human kittens liked to play with; wooden blocks painted garish colors, strange constructs that looked like miniature versions of Skimble's train, dirty and singed plush pollicles and other creatures he didn't recognize. Mistoffelees lightly kicked one of the wooden blocks and sent it skittering out of his way.

After Macavity's brief visit, he and Demeter had managed to sleep restlessly for a few hours, curled around one another on the nest of blankets. Now awake and marginally energized, they had begun exploring their prison, searching for a crack or a hole, anything they could use to escape.

Unfortunately, the basement walls were solid and seamless. The only exits were the entrance by the staircase, which now lay blocked, and the single, high window, which was too far to jump to. Demeter had earlier entertained the possibility of piling up the discarded furniture from the basement so they could climb to the window, but even though the abandoned bureaus and chairs were old, they were too heavy for the two cats to push around.

Demeter had decided to refocus her efforts on the staircase entrance, but she did not seem to be having much luck. Macavity had made sure there was no escape and in any case, the hench-cats sat between them and freedom.

Finally giving up, Demeter dejectedly bounded down the stairs to rejoin Mistoffelees. He was about to give up his own search; there was nothing to do but paw through human junk, and the prospect wasn't very appealing.

Stepping over a pile of yellowing books, Mistoffelees anchored his claws into the bed frame and stretched with a groan; his tail lashed out erratically, trying to ease the ache in his back.

Demeter quietly padded over to his side. "Does something hurt?"

"Not really," Mistoffelees murmured. "My back, but… it always hurts lately. The kittens are so heavy now."

Demeter stepped a little closer, pressing her hands to his back, and began to gently knead at him. He sighed in relief; she wasn't nearly as strong as Tugger, but the gentle massage was a help. A few moments later, he heard Demeter's soft laugh, and realized with a small flush of embarrassment that he'd started purring.

"Easy there," she said. "Or Tugger will get jealous."

"He knows I only have eyes for him," Mistoffelees said. He smiled, and then hissed as her hand pressed against a particularly sore spot on his lower back.

"As long as he feels the same," Demeter said softly. "I have to ask, what do you see in that cat? He makes me want to tear my fur out sometimes."

She had asked so gently that it was difficult to take offense. And truth be told, Mistoffelees had asked himself the same question often enough.

"There's a side to Tugger you don't know, not like I do," Mistoffelees said. "Hardly anyone does. Tugger likes to play around for attention, but when he's serious- he can make you feel like you're the only cat on earth. And I know it's not an act."

"Munkustrap is like that too," Demeter said. "Well, except for the attention part. But he does have a way of looking at me that makes it seem like no other queen matters. I suppose they get it from their father."

"And besides, I'm carrying his kittens. I have no choice but to find him incredibly charming." Mistoffelees glanced at her over his shoulder. "When we get out of here—because we will get out of here—you'll have to promise to continue disliking Tugger, else I might get jealous."

"Don't worry," Demeter said with a weak smile. "I'll be sure to scratch and bite him so he never suspects."

Mistoffelees smiled and loosened his claws from the bed frame, slowly straightening up. It was nice to see Demeter smile too.

The cheery atmosphere quickly turned cold as the loud noise of wood scraping against wood came from the top of the stairs.

The scraping sound stopped and the stairs creaked lightly under the weight of a cat. Mistoffelees reached over to pull Demeter into his arms as they both stared at the staircase; they did not move from their spot behind the bed frame, as though it could somehow offer protection from Macavity.

As a cat bounded down into view, Mistoffelees relaxed. It was only Cheswick, the black-furred tom, and he was alone. Yesterday, he had brought them a few mice to eat and water to drink; now, he carried a large bowl, and glared wordlessly at the two huddled Jellicles as he stepped down the stairs.

They made no move to approach or address him as he set the bowl down close to their nest of blankets. Though Mistoffelees had a loathing for both hench-cats, he was somewhat more pleased to see that Cheswick seemed to be in charge of feeding them instead of the other tom, Bixbite. Mistoffelees did not like the way that one kept leering at Demeter.

Cheswick gave them both a long stare, as though waiting for them to make a move before he could leave. "You'd best eat up now," he said. "Boss will be in to chat with you soon."

"What does he want?" Mistoffelees asked. He was feeling a little braver in front of the solitary tom, but he still didn't step away from the scant protection offered by the bed frame.

Cheswick gave him another unreadable stare, then glanced down at Mistoffelees' stomach. "Not my place to say," the tom mumbled, and with that, he turned tail and bounded back up the stairs.

It was only after the awful scraping sound came and left again that Mistoffelees dared to uncurl his arms from Demeter, and both carefully stepped back towards their blankets nest.

Mistoffelees peered down at what Cheswick had brought them; it was an earthenware bowl, filled almost to the brim with dead fat mice and fresh fish. Fish was a bit of a luxury back at the junkyard and it was disconcerting to think that Macavity was intent on feeding them so well. They were clearly meant to be here a while.

Mistoffelees stared dolefully at the food. It did smell terribly good, and he was hungry. Yesterday, he had nibbled pitifully at one of the mice, his appetite lacking, and feeling as though he should be refusing any offered food out of principle, though he knew the kittens wouldn't benefit from his stubbornness. Demeter, for her part, had not eaten anything, though she also stared at the offerings.

"You need to eat something," Demeter quietly urged. "Please, for the kittens."

Mistoffelees nodded; it wouldn't do either of them any good to be stubborn. With Demeter's help he lowered himself to the blankets, absently rubbing at his side as one of the kittens kicked him. "Only if you eat something too."

Demeter obliged, curling up next to him and taking one of the mice. She picked at it, taking small bites, and Mistoffelees reached for one of the fish, trying hard not to greedily swallow it whole.

They ate quietly for a few moments. As Demeter carefully finished her mouse, she glared in the direction of the staircase.

"How are they doing that?" she asked. "How are they shutting us in here?"

Mistoffelees glanced at the staircase; he knew there was no door up there, and had a fairly good idea of what Macavity had done. He swallowed his mouthful of fish before answering, "Magic, I would guess."

Demeter gave him a long-suffering look; despite the rather obvious effects of his magic, Mistoffelees knew it was difficult for some of the Jellicles to think of it as more than just kittenish tricks.

"So, it's an illusion?"

"No, not at all," Mistoffelees said. "Macavity's magic is dead real, and dangerous. He made fire tear through these houses, I'm sure of it. It's just a case of—wait a moment."

He glanced around the junk on the basement floor and spotted something worthwhile; the wooden block he had kicked out of his way earlier, which now sat just out of reach. There were little symbols painted in blue on its side, something meant to amuse human kittens.

"Look at that toy," Mistoffelees said. He pointed to the block and made sure Demeter could see it. He held out his hand and splayed out his fingers, concentrating until he had a feel for the block in his mind. Giving it a little mental pull, the block skittered across the floor and floated up to rest in the palm of his hand.

"Oh," Demeter said, staring at the block.

"It's basic magic," Mistoffelees said, putting the block down on the blanket between them. "At least, I think it is. It was one of the first things I figured out to do and it almost helped us get away back in the junkyard. I imagine Macavity knows the same magic, only he's using it to put much bigger blocks in our way."

"Like… like what?" Demeter asked. She warily picked at the wooden block with her claw.

Mistoffelees shrugged lightly. "Probably a bureau, or something just as big. Something too heavy for us to move. Only Macavity can move it back and forth; so that means nothing gets in or out of here unless Macavity is there too."

Demeter gave another glare towards the staircase. "Can't you move whatever Macavity put there? Like you did with this block?"

"I… I don't think I can," Mistoffelees said. "Moving a little block is easy. But I've tried moving bigger objects before, and I can't do it. I think I can only move things I'd have the strength to move with my arms."

"You said you could make things appear and disappear, right?" Demeter asked. "Can you make us disappear from here? Reappear at the junkyard? Or just outside this house?"

Mistoffelees frowned; her insistence was beginning to make him uncomfortable. "I don't really know how… I've never done it with living things before. It wouldn't be safe-"

"What about fire?" Demeter interrupted. "Macavity can make fire. Can't you do that too? You could burn the bureau, or scare Macavity and his hench-cats, or-"

"Demeter! I don't know how. Everlasting Cat, I'm not like him!"

He hadn't meant to get so hysterical, but she was bringing up a point he had been trying to avoid: he was completely and utterly helpless against Macavity. His magic was crude and unpracticed, and maybe he should have been more serious about perfecting it. But he had nothing now to protect himself, and nothing to protect his kittens.

"I'm sorry," Demeter murmured. "I didn't mean—I'm sorry, Misto."

"Don't be-" He was interrupted from saying more as the large piece of furniture was loudly moved at the top of the stairs. Immediately, Demeter's arms went around him, pulling him close as though she was intending to protect him. Mistoffelees swallowed hard and tightly held on to Demeter's arms.

The stairs creaked heavily with the sound of multiple heavy steps, and Macavity himself soon appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He looked terribly casual as he looked down at them; Bixbite stood to his left, grinning boldly, while Cheswick stood on the other side, looking rather bored.

"You both look well," Macavity said. His manner was, once again, disgustingly kind. "Are you both comfortable? Have you eaten well? What about you?" He made a sweeping motion towards Mistoffelees. "I've been told expecting cats sometimes crave particular foods. Is there anything you would like me to bring you?"

Mistoffelees said nothing; Demeter's embrace tightened around him.

"Why the silent treatment?" Macavity asked. "Have I been unkind? All right; my dear Demeter, I did use a bit of force to bring you over here the other day. And for that, I apologize. But neither of you have been mistreated since, and everything can continue exactly in such a way. We can learn to live peacefully together."

Mistoffelees felt Demeter bristle against him. "One big happy family?" she spat. "Forget it."

Macavity took a few steps closer and crouched before them; Mistoffelees tensed, expecting Demeter's defiance to be met with violence, but there came no blow or strike.

"You may yet change your mind," Macavity said simply. "Now, on your feet, please."

They both hesitated, especially as the two hench-cats seemed to take it as their cue to circle around them. They made no move to pull the huddled duo to their feet, to Mistoffelees' relief, though he started as Macavity extended a hand out to him, intending to help him up. Mistoffelees pointedly ignored the offered help and hung on to Demeter's arm as she rose.

Macavity stood up as well, easily two heads taller than both of them. Once again he moved slowly and cautiously towards Mistoffelees and drew in a great breath.

"You smell so very good," Macavity said appreciatively. "Not just because of your special condition. I've been waiting a long time to smell magic like that in another cat."

Mistoffelees couldn't help it; at the mention of magic, his eyes widened.

Macavity caught the reaction. He smirked a bit, just enough to reveal one fang. "You did ask why I brought you here," he said. "Let me explain."

To Mistoffelees' surprise, Macavity turned away from him, addressing Demeter. "Do you remember your mother, Demeter?"

Demeter bared her fangs in a silent hiss. "As much as I can," she said evenly. "I was very young when you took her away."

"Of course," Macavity said. There was no hint of regret in his voice; it left Mistoffelees feeling cold. "Did you ever wonder why I chose her?"

"Because you're a bastard, and she happened to be in your path?"

From the corner of his eye, Mistoffelees saw one of the toms, Bixbite, smirk and raise his paws behind Demeter, as though he was waiting for her to lunge as an excuse to grab her. But Demeter remained poised, staring back at Macavity.

"No, nothing so thoughtless and random," Macavity said. "She had a scent, a quality about her. She was a bit of a sensitive, did you know that? She could feel other cats' hearts in her own. Always seemed to know everything a few minutes before others did. She always seemed to know when I was around. That's a gift. A magical gift."

"My… my mother wasn't magical," Demeter said, genuinely confused.

"No, she wasn't," Macavity sighed. "That was my mistake; magical cats are so rare, and I'd never met another one. Any special skill seemed like it could be magic, and your mother's skills were certainly special. I wonder, Demeter, did she pass that on to you? Can you feel certain things better than others? Can you see in the dark a little clearer than the other Jellicles?"

She could do exactly that, Mistoffelees knew. He'd seen her. Not at the level of Coricopat or Tantomile, who made an effort to hone their gifts, but Demeter definitely had the skill. But now, laid bare in front of Macavity, she only shook her head dejectedly.

"No? Well, it's a skill, certainly," Macavity shrugged. "But it isn't magic. It was unfortunate that I didn't know that at the time."

"So if you thought she was magical, why did you take her?" Demeter asked. Her voice shook; she was fighting back tears. Mistoffelees hardly blamed her; he'd never known the queen, but still wanted to cry for her fate.

"Are you not listening?" Macavity said, an edge to his voice. "Magical cats are dreadfully rare. The world needs more of us; and if I couldn't find many others like me, then I would need to create some."

"You… you wanted her to… to…"

"To give me heirs, as only a magical queen could. But unfortunately, she was useless to me. I couldn't risk having kittens with a queen who wasn't magical."

Demeter gave a light sob. "You killed her just because of that? Because she wasn't magical?"

Macavity shrugged airily. "I gave her a choice. I would have let her stay and work for me. Other toms in my employ would have loved to claim her as a mate; she was quite beautiful, you know. But she chose to fight me, and there was nothing to be done about that."

Mistoffelees had begun to tremble, fighting the urge to vomit the little food he'd recently eaten. He had been told by the other Jellicles of Macavity's penchant for casual cruelty, but to hear it from the mouth of the Hidden Paw himself, and so flippantly, was horrifying. Though he had only so far addressed Demeter, Mistoffelees did not need him to elaborate on his plan; he could easily guess at Macavity's intentions

"After she was gone, I didn't give up my search," Macavity continued. "It was a difficult few years, but every so often, fortune smiles."

"It won't work," Mistoffelees suddenly said. Macavity whirled towards him, as though he'd forgotten about the small tom. "I know what you want with me, but it won't work."

Macavity gave a low rumbling chuckle. "You are a clever little one, aren't you? Tell me, what do you think I want?"

He felt a little less bold now with Macavity's attention on him, but still Mistoffelees tried to stand as tall and still as possible. "You want me to bear your kittens."

"Clever indeed," Macavity smirked. "What I wanted was a queen, but if you are powerful enough to make this happen-" He raised a thick paw over Mistoffelees' stomach, making him shudder, though the paw did not make contact. "-It makes no difference to me that you're a tom. I will take you as my mate and you will give me heirs who are just like us."

"But it won't work," Mistoffelees said. He covered his heavy stomach with his hands, not caring this time if the hench-cats found it ridiculous. "This only happened by… by accident. I didn't make it happen, and I don't know how to control it."

"Oh yes you do," Macavity purred. "Little toms don't make kittens appear in their bellies by accident. I can smell the magic in you; you can make this happen. And you will find a way."

"No, I won't."

"Yes, you will. I will give you the same choice I've given others; you can choose to be happy and comfortable here with me, or you can choose to resist me. All the same, I will get what I want."

"You won't," Mistoffelees said breathlessly. He was trembling again, but with anger this time. "I don't know how to give you kittens! And even if I did, I wouldn't do it for you!"

Any pretense of kindness or gentleness was now gone from Macavity's manner; like a shadow over the moon, a look of intense cruelty passed over the cat's features. He wrapped one long-fingered, sharp paw around Mistoffelees' neck and squeezed just hard enough to make him whimper. At his side, Demeter also whimpered.

"If you fight me, I will overpower you," Macavity hissed. He dragged Mistoffelees closer to him, so close that the smell of cold smoke was all about them. Close to losing his balance, Mistoffelees grasped Macavity's thick arm with trembling paws. "I will drag you to me every night and mate with you until you gain control of your magic and give me kits. If you could do it for one of those common, classless cats back in your filthy junkyard, you can do the same for me."

Macavity's grip was unyielding and Mistoffelees couldn't fight the rising panic. He wanted to struggle, but it hurt to do so, and as much as he was loath to admit it, Macavity was right; there wasn't much he could do to fight Macavity's power. His breath hitched and tears of panic began to leave trails on his cheeks.

"Aw, cries just like a queen," Bixbite snorted. "I bet he screamed like one too, when he made them kits."

There came a snarl and the sounds of struggling; Mistoffelees couldn't see, but he had a fairly good idea that Demeter had tried to attack Bixbite for his remark. He worried about the tom hurting her, but one quick, warning glare from Macavity made the struggling cease.

Mercifully, the grip on Mistoffelees' throat eased somewhat. Macavity still stared coldly at him. "I'm not unnecessarily cruel. I'm giving you both a choice."

"What about my kittens?" Mistoffelees asked, his voice strained from the tight hold. "What's going to happen to them?"

"These ones? With a belly that size, you must be ready to drop them any day now. Once they're born, we'll see which ones inherited their…" Macavity grinned darkly. "…mother's special talents. I will happily raise those as my own. The rest will be fairly useless to me."

"No!" Mistoffelees rasped. He'd meant to scream it, but the word caught in his throat. It was suddenly difficult to breathe, and it had nothing to do with Macavity's grasp around his neck.

"You monster!" Demeter cried. One of the toms grunted with effort; she had begun to struggle again. "They're innocent kittens! Even you wouldn't be so depraved as to kill newborns!"

"Don't worry, Demeter," Macavity said, casting her a bored look. "We'll find you a mate, and you'll be taken care of as well."

Mistoffelees gasped as Macavity suddenly released his neck; he fell hard onto his knees, yelping as the contact jarred his back and legs. Desperately gulping for breath, he nearly flinched away at the feel of hands on his arms, but realized it was only Demeter, not one of the wretched hench-cats.

"Get some rest," Macavity said. He was as airy and pleasant as before. "If you need anything—some food, more blankets—please call out and you'll have whatever you need. I'll come back after you've had some time to think about my request."

Cheswick and Bixbite strolled back to their master's side, evidently unconcerned with any threat the two Jellicles may have posed. Bixbite gave them both a smirk before following Macavity up the stairs; it was clear that he intended to be part of whatever plan Macavity had in mind for Demeter.

"Bastards," Demeter hissed, after the furniture had been magically pushed back into place, blocking the entrance to the basement. "Misto? Breathe, it's okay."

"He's going to kill my kittens," Mistoffelees whimpered. He should have ached from collapsing onto the floor, but Macavity's threat had left him numb all over.

"No!" Demeter cried, tightening her hold around the small tom. "No he won't. We're going to get out of here before they're born. And even if we don't, I won't let him touch you or the kittens. I'll scratch him until he stops scratching back. I promise."

Mistoffelees nodded shakily. Whatever little hope he may have felt had long since faded. Macavity's deeds were no tales meant to frighten unruly young kittens; he was capable of awful things, and had already made others suffer for his whims. It sickened him to admit it, but Macavity was right: one way or another, he would get what he wanted.

One way or another, he would have to submit to Macavity's desires. One way or another, he knew, he would end up carrying Macavity's kittens.

He shuddered against Demeter, feeling sick again, and stared at the single window as rain began to patter violently against the glass.


	21. News From Victoria Grove

Tugger huddled miserably under an empty table. It was a small piece of furniture used by humans to eat their food outside; at the moment, it offered scant protection against the pouring rain. Munkustrap crouched at his side, staring out into the misty, rain-covered road, while Skimble huddled by his other side, occasionally lifting a paw to futilely shake the water off. It had become impossible to avoid the growing puddles and all three cats were thoroughly damp and miserable.

Tugger still hated London, and the city, and Victoria Grove. Visiting had been tolerable a few weeks ago, with the goal of finding food for Mistoffelees and his kittens, but this excursion had been dismal. They had already spent, and wasted, an entire day looking for Mungojerrie's contacts, and on top of everything it had been raining non-stop for several hours.

They were growing restless; well, Tugger certainly was, and he could tell Munkustrap was itching for some useful activity, instead of hiding from the rain and waiting for information. Tugger sighed and shook some of the cold water away from his hind legs; every so often the wind would blow the rain clear under the table, and his fur was already soaked.

Anchoring his claws onto the cobblestones beneath, Tugger quickly gave his upper body a shake, kicking the water up from his mane in a wide spray.

"Tugger! Everlasting!" Munkustrap yelled, following up with a shake of his own. Skimble merely sighed and licked ineffectually at the wet fur of his arms.

"Sorry," Tugger muttered. "My mane's getting heavy from all the water."

Munkustrap shot him a sideways glare. "Well, now you look like a pollicle's breakfast."

Though disgusting, the mention of breakfast made Tugger's stomach clench as he pawed at his wild, rain-frizzed mane. He couldn't remember the last time any of them had eaten. He wondered if Mistoffelees had been able to find food, wherever he was now. He just hoped Macavity wasn't gleefully starving his mate, or else he was going to tear the Hidden Paw a new one.

"I hope Mungojerrie hasn't run into trouble out there," Skimble said, peering out into the deserted street.

"Well, he'd better have," Tugger grumbled. "Because he's been out there long enough."

"I hope he knows what he's doing," Munkustrap sighed. "If the strays of London are actually wrapped up with Macavity's crew, he—wait, someone's coming. Is that him?"

The figure of a small tom, high-tailing it through the rain, grew closer until Mungojerrie skidded to a halt beneath the table with a loud shiver, his arms full.

"Here," Mungojerrie said, dropping a few round pastries onto the ground in front of the other three. "Shrewsbury cakes."

"You stopped for food?" Tugger asked.

"Took two minutes," Mungojerrie said. He shook the heavy water from his fur and began to lick at his paws. "I had to stop by the Fox and Feather anyway; can't follow anyone's scent in this kinda weather, so I had to look around and ask like a bloody human."

Tugger picked up one of the small round cakes and bit into it; it tasted rather bland to him, and it was terribly soggy from the rain, but he had to admit that having some food was nice.

"Thank you," Munkustrap said. He had already finished eating one of the waterlogged cakes. "I assume you found the stray you're looking for?"

Mungojerrie nodded. "A bunch of 'em are hiding from the rain in the alley next to the Heart and Crown. S'not far; if we run, we won't get too soaked."

"A little late for that," Tugger muttered. "Lead the way."

They followed closely on Mungojerrie's tail, trudging through the chilly rain. Luckily, the alley was close by, and an eave connecting the two pubs kept the space dry enough.

The scents and sounds of London strays were all over the alley; it was a mess of garbage and empty wooden crates, in which many of the cats had retreated to escape the worst of the rain. A few talked, hissed, cackled. None really paid attention to the four strangers, though a few meowed casually at Mungojerrie as he passed them, recognizing him from his previous excursions.

Once again, Tugger crouched down and shook out his mane, attracting hisses and glares from two nearby queens who had gotten caught in the watery crossfire. He normally would have enjoyed attracting the attention of pretty cats, but he could do nothing but glare back and bare his fangs at them.

"A little restraint, lad," Skimble murmured to him, fruitlessly dabbing at the soaked material of his waistcoat. "We're not looking to make enemies here."

"Hey 'Jerrie!" called out a small, pale gray tom. "Where's your saucy little sister, eh?"

"Back home, away from your dirty paws," Mungojerrie said. "Is Vin around?"

"Right 'round back," the tom sniffed, flicking his paw towards a stack of three wooden crates.

Tugger recognized the tom who lay sprawled atop the crates; the scruffy brown cat he had seen by the Clocktower pub those few weeks ago. He was now lazily conversing with a long-haired black queen. Mungojerrie bounded up to the crates and scratched at the wood to attract his friend's attention.

"Evenin', 'Jerrie!" the tom said. His ears flattened a bit as he noticed the rather large toms behind Mungojerrie. "Brought some more friends, did ya?"

"Yeah, can we have a chat, Vin?"

"Hey, whatever you think I did, it wasn't me."

"You're not in trouble, idiot. I just want to talk to ya."

Vincenzo gave him a long look, before deciding the 'chat' wasn't going to get him scratched. He leapt down from the crates and sat on his haunches in front of Mungojerrie, though his ears were firmly raised and twitched towards the newcomers to the alley.

"You're Vincenzo?" Munkustrap asked, taking a few steps forward so he could peer over Mungojerrie's shoulder.

"Heh. Awful big friends you got there, 'Jerrie," the small tom said, nervously looking from Munkustrap to Skimble, and widening his eyes as his gaze landed on Tugger, who only glared quietly back.

Munkustrap quickly grew impatient. "Tell us what you know about Macavity."

"Whoa, whoa!" Vincenzo cried, frantically looking above and behind him. The queen on top of the crates gave them an alarmed stare, but none of the other cats looked in their direction. "Keep it down, will ya? You want to get us all gutted? Ya never know who's working for Mac 'round here."

"Sorry, Vin," Mungojerrie said, lowering his voice. "My, uh, friends aren't used to the city. Look, we need your help. You warned me about Mac a while back, 'member? You said to look out, 'cause someone said he was talking about the junkyard?"

"Well, yeah," Vincenzo said, shuffling his paws. "Didn't want nothing to happen to you or 'Teazer if he was gonna make a move, you know? You know Mac always gets what he wants, one way or 'nother."

"How did you find out about his interest?" Munkustrap asked. Following Mungojerrie's lead, he had also lowered his tone. "It's important that you tell us anything you know."

"Hey, I jus' hear things!" Vincenzo said, throwing up his dirty paws. "That's how it works 'round here. I heard it from Hector who heard it from Priscilla who heard it from that weird cat with half an ear from-"

"All right, we get it," Munkustrap said with a sigh.

"So it was true?" Vincenzo asked, picking at his ear with a claw. "Mac went and made off with a queen'n her kits from your crew?"

"Yeah, Vin, he did," Mungojerrie said. "Two of them, actually. He broke in two days ago and we never saw him coming." He delicately avoided mentioning who the 'queen' in question was, to Tugger's gratitude.

"That's rough, mate. Real rough. She must've been a pretty thing."

"Yeah," Mungojerrie said, non-committal. "But listen, we really need some help here. Got any idea where Mac's hiding out these days?"

Vincenzo shook his head. "Hell if I know."

"Is there anyone here who does?" Munkustrap said with a low growl.

It was enough to make the brown tom flinch, but not enough to make him complacent. "S-Sorry mates, can't really help. S'a matter of survival for us here. The less we know, and the less Mac thinks we know, the better."

"Yeah, but…" Mungojerrie began, staring dolefully at his friend. "I won't spread the word, I swear. We just want to get our friends back. If you know anything about Mac's den, you gotta tell these fellows."

"What are you, daft?" Vincenzo huffed. "Your friends here are big, but they won't put a scratch on Mac. You know how it goes. Sorry to hear about that queen'n the other one, but now that Mac's got 'em, they ain't going nowhere. Understand?"

"Let me help you understand something very important," Tugger said with a low growl. He had not yet spoken up and his voice startled the small tom, who shrunk down even further as Tugger pulled himself up to his full height to look down on him.

Tugger could look like a fright when he wanted to, and his presently wild, ungroomed mane helped the effect as he loomed over the stray.

"It's my mate and my kittens that Macavity has locked up somewhere, and I will personally gut anyone who is standing between me, and Macavity's den. So if you know anything at all, you will tell us. Understand?"

Vincenzo gulped and flattened his ears. "M-maybe there's one th-thing I might know," he squeaked.

"Enlighten us."

"Macavity… he l-l-likes fire."

"We know that," Tugger growled.

"Yeah, b-but… but do you know this?" Vincenzo stammered. "You know those human dens, over at Elmsmere Way? Well, there was a pretty bad fire there jus' before winter. Humans never figured out how it happened."

"Elmsmere Way?" Munkustrap asked. He stepped up next to Tugger and narrowed his eyes at the stray. "Are you telling the truth?"

"The lad's right," Skimble said. "I remember it; there was plenty of talk when the fire happened—it was very suspicious, is what I kept hearing from the humans. Like the fire was the devil's work."

"Humans are scared of going back there," Vincenzo said. He seemed a little less terrified for his life. "None of the cats here want to go nosin' over there, either; everyone's sure Mac emptied the dens himself with fire. It's all abandoned now. Don't think anyone would go there but Mac hisself, and his lot."

"So you're saying Macavity's hiding out there?" Tugger asked.

"I said, I think! I think! I don't know!"

"Uh, yeah…" Mungojerrie coughed, trying to squeeze himself between Tugger and the trembling stray. "I think that's as much as we're going to find out. Thanks, Vin."

With that, Vincenzo took it as his cue to gain his precious freedom. He backed away shakily, keeping an eye on Tugger until he was far enough away to climb back up the stacked crates, stumbling in his panic. Once he'd reached the top, he huddled fearfully behind the long-haired queen.

"Thanks, Tug," Mungojerrie sighed. "You frightened away my only contact with the Clocktower pub. You know how hard it is to get into that kitchen?"

Ignoring him, Tugger turned back towards Munkustrap and Skimble as they huddled away from the other alley cats.

"Elmsmere Way?" Munkustrap asked.

"It's a bit of a trudge from here," Skimble said. "But we can be there in a few hours. I know the way."

Tugger shuffled on his feet, itching to be on the run again. "Sounds like a rotten place. Figures Macavity would set up shop there."

"All right," Munkustrap said. "We can figure out what to do once we get there." He placed a paw on Mungojerrie's shoulder. "Thank you for your help, 'Jerrie. I need another favor from you: go back to the junkyard, and tell everyone we're going to Elmsmere Way."

Mungojerrie nodded. "Want me to get backup?"

"Give us until the next dusk," Munkustrap said. "If we're not back by then, tell Alonzo to come find us."

To Tugger and Skimble, he gave a quick nod, and the three immediately set out into the cobblestone street. The rain had turned into a light drizzle, thankfully, though the streets were still covered in puddles. Tugger barely tried to avoid them, kicking up splashes as he ran.

"So you'll personally gut anyone who stands in your way, will you?" Munkustrap said, matching Tugger's pace as Skimble ran ahead, leading the way.

Tugger chuckled feebly between halting breaths. "Think Macavity will buy that?"

"No."

"I was afraid of that too."

Truth be told, Tugger hadn't the faintest idea about what to do once they found Macavity. He wasn't much of a fighter; that had always been Munkustrap's domain. But defeating Macavity was a minor detail; at the moment, he would settle for locating Mistoffelees and assuring himself that his mate and kittens were safe.

And so he ran on, through the wet and empty streets of Victoria Grove, towards the abandoned houses of Elmsmere Way.


	22. Beginnings

"Mistoffelees," Demeter said. "Please, will you sit down? You really should rest right now."

Mistoffelees glanced in her direction and gave a quick shake of the head, continuing his erratic pacing around the basement. He couldn't help it; he'd been overtaken by restlessness. As much as walking made his legs and back sore, it was downright uncomfortable to lay still.

He didn't expect to feel relaxed while trapped in Macavity's basement, especially now that the Hidden Paw's plans had been laid bare. But for the last few hours, a strange queasy energy had taken hold of him, leaving him feeling nervous and unwell. He circled the broken bed frame for the third time, clawing at the splintering wood. Inside him, the kittens were kicking, rolling and bouncing, as active as they'd ever been.

Demeter sighed. "If you're worried, I'll stay up and guard you while you sleep."

Demeter's offer should have been tempting, but sleep was the last thing on his mind. Macavity had not been around to visit them for hours; in fact, their only contact with their captors had been Cheswick, who had dropped in two hours ago to bring some more food and water. This time, the sight and smell of the food made Mistoffelees feel nauseated and Demeter had had to cover the earthenware bowl with a spare blanket to keep him from gagging.

"Thank you, but I wouldn't be able to sleep," he said to Demeter. "The kittens are restless too."

"Because you keep winding them up by running around!"

Demeter was nervous too, he could tell. She had dozed fitfully for a bit, but had otherwise spent her time sitting on the blankets, her legs curled up to her chest. They'd sat in silence together, sharing warmth, at least until Mistoffelees could no longer bear the stillness and leapt to his feet to burn off some of the excess energy.

He supposed that Macavity's designs were weighing on his mind. He and Demeter were now facing a very real deadline; Macavity was leaving them alone for the moment, but as soon as the kittens were born, his plans would be set in motion. He would get rid of the unwanted kittens. And then what, Mistoffelees wondered? How long would Macavity give him to recover from the birth before dragging him to wherever he made his bed and…

Everlasting. Mistoffelees couldn't think of it any more, or else he would make himself sick. He circled around the corner of the basement again and stepped over a waist-high pile of books, and tried to quell his agitation by tearing at the old papers with his claws.

"Please, Misto," Demeter said softly. She had tracked his progress through the basement area from her seat on the blankets with large, concerned eyes. "You're worrying me. Come sit next to me. If you can't sleep, at least sit down and rest. It might calm the kittens down."

With a shaky sigh, Mistoffelees pulled his claws from the books and acquiesced, returning to Demeter's side. With her help to balance his weight, he slowly sunk down onto the blankets, groaning as he tried to find a comfortable position.

He missed the comfort of his den, and the comfort of Tugger. His back felt tense and knotted, and his legs ached fiercely; he wanted nothing more than to have his mate close by, soothing the pains away. He wondered where Tugger was, whether or not he was frantic with worry, and… Mistoffelees groaned again. His thoughts felt jumbled; he was sitting down, but the restlessness hadn't gone away. He began to pick at the gray woolen blanket on the top of their makeshift bed, pulling at the stitches and unraveling the corner.

"Don't be so nervous," Demeter said, gently placing her hand on top of his, trying to stop him from tearing the blanket apart. "Misto, I promise, everything's going to be okay. You're going to make yourself sick if you keep worrying like this."

She was trying her best to be calm, for his sake. It was easy to see through her facade, though he appreciated the effort. He tried to will himself to relax, if only for Demeter's sake, drawing in a few deep breaths, though they did nothing to calm him. Demeter's hands still covered his own, and even that small touch seemed to agitate him further.

Mistoffelees slid his hands free of her grasp and, as much as it ached to do so, he rolled over onto all fours and arched his spine and tail, trying to stretch out the pains in his back.

"Hey, easy," Demeter said with a small forced laugh. Mistoffelees caught on to her meaning soon enough, blushing a bit as he realized he'd almost smacked her with his lashing tail.

"I'm sorry," Mistoffelees said softly.

"It's okay, relax," Demeter said. "Here, let me." She placed her hands on his back and began to massage him gently. It helped with the aches for all of two seconds, before the contact made him squirm uncomfortably.

"No, please," he murmured, shifting away from her hands. "I'm sorry, I… I just don't want to be touched right now."

Demeter sighed in resignation and dropped her hands in her lap. When Mistoffelees settled into a kneeling position and began picking at the woolen blanket again, she didn't move to stop him.

"Hey, Misto?" Demeter said, with just a hint of forced casualness. "You were trying to ask me something a while back."

"I was?" Mistoffelees asked.

"Back at the junkyard, before this all started. I remember now, you wanted us to talk in peace because you wanted to ask me something."

Mistoffelees stopped pulling stitches out of the wool; he'd forgotten all about that. At least the topic was enough to distract him from his agitation. "That's right, I did. I'd been trying to work up the courage to ask you for the last few weeks."

Demeter looked at him expectantly. Mistoffelees sighed and rubbed at his stomach, trying to calm the hyperactive kits. A part of him feared that the request would be useless now, given how their fates were hanging in the balance, but for Demeter's sake, he was willing to keep the hope alive.

"It concerns your father, in a way," Mistoffelees said softly. "Now that he's journeyed to the Heaviside Layer, I was wondering if… if you would mind if we named one of the kittens after him. In honor of him."

"You would name one of the kittens Cyrano?"

"If you would like. With seven kittens, at least one will surely be a tom."

"I would like it very much, thank you," Demeter said with a watery smile. "You know… I'm sure you've heard the stories about what happens at the Heaviside Layer. Old Deuteronomy used to tell some to us when we were kittens."

"He's told us stories too," Mistoffelees said. He missed the old patriarch; he'd looked forward to seeing Old Deuteronomy meet his new grandkits.

"I know they're just stories," Demeter said. "Because no Jellicle knows for sure what happens at the Heaviside Layer, except those who actually go there."

Mistoffelees nodded thoughtfully. "I like to think the wonders are real, and the new life up there is beautiful and peaceful."

"I've always liked to think of old Jellicles returning as new Jellicles," Demeter said with a small, dreamy smile. "As kittens, starting all over again, with no memory of their past life, as a way of making up for the difficult life some have lead." Her smile faded. "Or for the life they've wasted."

"You're speaking of your aunt," Mistoffelees softly said. At her puzzled look, he added, "Coricopat and Tantomile told me about her at the Ball. I was sorry to hear about that."

"Don't be," Demeter murmured. "She's gone, and no one in the tribe is ready to welcome her back. She did it to herself. She doesn't deserve a new life, not like my father."

Demeter made as though to touch his belly, but stopped, as though suddenly remembering that he did not feel like physical contact at the moment.

"Jellicles old, and then Jellicles new. After all, there's always been at least one queen who makes kittens on the night of the Jellicle Ball." She gave him a cheeky smile. "And one tom, now."

Mistoffelees gave her a wan smile in response. "Do you suppose you also had an old Jellicle life, before this one?"

"Who knows? Maybe I was a beautiful, magical queen once."

"Or maybe you were a handsome and charming tom with a large fanclub."

"Everlasting Cat," Demeter said, wrinkling her nose. "Don't even kid about that!"

They fell to silence for a few moments; Mistoffelees managed to direct his nerves into once more kneading the woolen blanket beneath his hands. Demeter sighed tiredly, watching his motions as she curled her legs up close to her chest and wrapped her tail around herself.

"Do you suppose they're looking for us?" she asked quietly.

"I think they're driving themselves mad with worry," Mistoffelees murmured. "And doing everything they can to find us. It shouldn't be long now."

He didn't believe a word of it, of course; the cold, creeping aura of Macavity's magic was all over the flat, and though it was a trick far beyond his skills, he could easily guess that there was a cloaking spell at work. Even if Tugger and Munkustrap, and any others from the junkyard knew to look in Elmsmere Way, he feared they would not be found.

Broken from his reverie, Mistoffelees groaned as one or two of the kittens tumbled hard inside him. He was feeling sore and stretched and their maneuvers were getting painful.

"Hurts?" Demeter asked.

"I told you they were restless," Mistoffelees said. He tried to smile, to lighten the mood, but it quickly into a hiss as another of the kittens prodded him harshly in the ribs. He absently pressed a hand against his chest; it too was feeling sore and swollen.

"You should try to sleep now," Demeter said, gently taking hold of his shoulder to press him down to the blankets. "The kits need you to rest for them."

"Not right now," Mistoffelees said. He gently but firmly shook off her hand; it was still unpleasant to be touched.

"All right, fine," Demeter said with a huff. "Then will you do me a favor? I'd like to sleep, but it's too cold down here. Would you lie beside me and keep me warm?

Please?"

Mistoffelees sighed. The tactic was obvious but he couldn't refuse her. He nodded resignedly and waited for Demeter to nestle herself into the blankets before slowly stretching out onto his side, as close to her as he could stand, his large, heavy belly just nudging against her side. The basement was cold and he certainly had enough body heat to share.

The nervous energy kept him up for a long while, at least long enough for him to watch Demeter genuinely fall into a slumber, troubled as it was. He shifted about for quite some time, trying to ease his discomfort, until he himself fell into an uneasy sleep.

***

He dreamt of Macavity.

For a dream, it was oddly vivid; he could smell the Hidden Paw's breath, his fur, the disgusting scent of his magic. His laughter was deep and echoing, his long, unkempt claws raised as though in triumph. They were stained with blood.

There was a strange quality to one's dreams, a sense that left one both oddly detached and yet intimately connected to whatever action presently took place, no matter how surreal. That the dream took place in the basement flat was no surprise.

Macavity flashed a devilish grin and licked the blood off his claws. Behind the ginger cat laid Demeter's body; she had been disemboweled by those uncommonly long claws. Her eyes were wide open and unseeing, her body relaxed, her fur stained with her own blood. Bixbite hovered over her corpse, eagerly licking his lips.

The sight was horrifying, but Mistoffelees could only stare with grim resignation. A hard kick from within made him look down at his enlarged belly; this too, he regarded with grim resignation.

Before him, Macavity reared up, his eyes and fur ablaze, cackling madly as he lifted a hand, tipped with bloody claws, and swung it towards Mistoffelees' belly. Too fast, he couldn't block the strike, couldn't gather enough thought or energy to avoid the attack. A sudden, deep pain engulfed his entire abdomen.

In his dream, Mistoffelees screamed.

***

In the basement, he awoke with a violent jerk. The ghastly image of Macavity faded away, but the pain in his belly did not.

Horrified, Mistoffelees looked down, expecting to see a deep wound splitting his belly, and blood and gore, but there was nothing there, only a faint and disappearing glow rippling over his stomach.

His fur was shifting as the kittens squirmed around, the vigorous movements accompanied by a steady, cramping pain. Mistoffelees panted softly, digging his claws into the woolen blanket, until the pain finally stopped.

He chalked it up to stress, a reaction from the dreams. Exhaustion from his recent restlessness. A mind trick, brought on by all the sickening magic floating around the house. He remained stock-still for several minutes, and only relaxed when it seemed as though the pain would not return.

Shifting around on the blankets, careful not to wake Demeter who slept fitfully at his side, Mistoffelees struggled to roll himself over, to find a comfortable position. Back in the den, he had taken to arranging the blankets to support his body, or pillowing himself against Tugger's limbs. Now, in this unfamiliar bed and with all of the dreadful happenings, a deep ache had begun to spread from his back to his legs to his stomach. He was terribly thirsty too, and wondered about the logistics of struggling over to their water bowl, but found he had too little energy to do so.

Mistoffelees felt so weary and eventually willed himself to ignore the discomforts, close to falling asleep again. But suddenly, the kittens shifted and the cramping pain came back, building up to a greater intensity than the previous one.

He gasped in shock, louder than he'd intended; Demeter stirred at the sound and woke, blinking confusedly for a moment. "Misto?" she rasped. "What's wrong?"

He couldn't answer, couldn't do much but wrap his arm around his belly and gasp for breath, his anxiety increasing as he shifted his legs and felt thick fluid wetting the fur between his thighs. Demeter saw the motion, saw his pain, and scrambled to sit up, uncertainly resting one hand against his shoulder as though fearful he would shake it off again.

"Is it the kittens?" she asked nervously. "Are you in pain?"

As with the first one, the pain eventually ebbed away, leaving Mistoffelees shaky and weak. "It hurts," he moaned.

There was no denying it; these pains weren't like the one he had felt two weeks ago, when his body had changed for the kits; these ones were slow to build and slow to leave, deep and tight. These had to be birthing pains.

"Demeter… I think the kittens are trying to come."

Her expression must have mirrored his own; her brow drawn in concern, and fear deep in her eyes. Their time had now officially run out.

Demeter stared at him for a few moments, just long enough to replace terror with determination. She rolled off the nest and raised herself onto her knees, as though poised to spring, and began kneading and smoothing out the blankets, giving him as much room as possible.

"I won't let them near you," she said evenly. "Any of them. Everything will be fine. Don't think about Macavity. Your kittens are going to be okay."

Mistoffelees could only nod; a nervous shiver had taken hold of his body. Under Demeter's watchful gaze, he could only curl up on the blankets as best as he could, already exhausted, and moaned pitifully as the next contraction began to build.


	23. Dangerous Road

The heavy rain had finally stopped, leaving the previously-sandy fields a muddy mess. Tugger panted harshly as he trudged through the thick mud; it already coated his paws and made the running difficult, though he pressed on, already lagging behind the other toms.

Munkustrap ran a few paces ahead of Tugger, while Skimble led the way; with the exception of Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer, he spent the most time outside of the junkyard and knew the ins and outs of London better than anyone. He knew the fastest way to get to Elmsmere Way and for that, Tugger was grateful he had volunteered to come along.

They'd run back towards the junkyard from Victoria Grove and now ran through a field of tall yellowing grasses, still damp from the recent rain. Tugger felt disconcerted that he hadn't caught a single whiff of Mistoffelees' scent, or even those of the strange cats or of Macavity himself. Yes, he understood that Macavity's magic was somehow hiding Mistoffelees and Demeter from them, but the concept was too abstract for him, and he couldn't help but picture it as throwing a blanket over someone. Magic or no magic, surely it couldn't be impossible to hide a cat's scent?

He could only hope that the tip about Elmsmere Way would lead to something. His sense of time had been thrown off by the stress of the last few days, and he struggled to remember exactly how many days were left until the kittens were due. Assuming, of course, that they wouldn't decide to come early. Assuming, of course, that they were still alive and healthy.

Tugger growled under his breath; he wished that Coricopat or Tantomile had come along, if only so they could reassure him of Mistoffelees' state. Knowing that his mate was alive and well would go a long way towards easing his nerves right now.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, Tugger nearly crashed into Munkustrap as the tabby skidded to a halt. It was Skimble who had slowed their approach, cautiously climbing to the top of a small, mud-covered mound.

"There it is," Skimble said quietly, still catching his breath.

Taking care not to slip and tumble down the mound, Tugger climbed up to get a good look at Elmsmere Way. It looked like a normal human neighbourhood, if it weren't for the fact that half the houses were blackened and gutted from fire. Tugger's ears twitched; there wasn't a sound from the area, not a hum or a whisper, no noise that could have been either human or feline. When the wind blew softly in their direction, it brought no scent but for a lingering odor of burnt wood.

"I remember this place before the fire," Skimble said as Munkustrap crouched next to him on the mound. "I knew some cats who lived here. It was a beautiful place, let me tell you. But after the fire, all of the humans were too frightened to come back and rebuild, frightened of the fire returning."

"It's deserted," Tugger said, staring out glumly at the deserted roads. The grass and trees had long since died; there was no feel of any kind of life out there. "I can't smell anyone here."

"It certainly looks like Macavity's handiwork," Munkustrap said. "Let's hope he decided to make this his new home."

"What are you thinking, lad?" Skimble asked. "Tugger's got a point; it'll be a chore to pick up a scent anywhere here."

"We search the houses," Munkustrap said. It was clear he didn't relish the thought, but admittedly they had no other choice. "One by one, until we find something."

Tugger's ears twitched suddenly; with the absence of all life in Elmsmere Way, it was easy to zero in on something when it did appear.

"We may not have to," Tugger whispered harshly. "There's something out there."

Munkustrap and Skimble both turned their ears in the direction Tugger indicated; it was difficult to tell what was out there, but there was definitely something. Like the soft but careless tread of paws, unmistakably feline, coming from behind a row of house, the sound growing loud in the total silence. They couldn't see which cat was traipsing about from their vantage point.

If they could hear the strange cat, then there was a good possibility the cat could hear them. They needed to be stealthy; anyone hanging around Elmsmere Way would surely have useful information about Macavity.

Munkustrap crouched low on the mound, ears and whiskers pointed forward in the direction of the sound. After a moment of scrutiny, he gave Tugger and Skimble a quick nod, wordlessly indicating for them to follow.

Tugger was not used to stealth; he could tread soundlessly enough to hunt mice and rats, but most Jellicles would agree that Tugger was not built for subtlety. He did his best to follow Munkustrap's lead, carefully placing each muddied paw down slowly and soundlessly, mindful not to step on a twig or a dry bit of grass.

They reached the back row of houses; Munkustrap signaled for them to flatten themselves against a rotting wood fence, the better to hide themselves from the full view of the road. The tread of paws was getting louder, and heading in their direction.

Tugger could smell it now, the scent of the approaching cat. To his chagrin, it didn't smell like Mistoffelees or Demeter, but to his elation, he recognized the scent as one of the lingering trails from back in the junkyard. It was not Macavity, but most likely one of his hench-cats. It was a small victory; it meant they were in the right area.

He gestured to Munkustrap, unwilling to risk blowing their cover by speaking, instead nodding vigorously towards the approaching sound of steps and indicating his nose. Munkustrap quickly understood; yes, the scent was familiar.

They couldn't wait very long, Tugger knew; soon, the hench-cat would pick up their scents, and would surely run to alert Macavity. They would have to attack first.

Munkustrap was reaching the same conclusion. He motioned for Tugger and Skimble to stay quiet while his eyes scanned the area for a vantage point to attack. Tugger did not like the idea of Munkustrap venturing out alone to attack the strange cat, but he had to admit that his brother had the best chance of all of them to approach the hench-cat undetected.

Leaping quietly to the top of the rickety fence, Munkustrap indicated for them to follow. Skimble jumped first, balancing carefully on the narrow beam of wood, and Tugger leapt up last, trying his very best not to skid, thanks to his mud-covered paws. Munkustrap gave them both one final, telling look—Tugger knew his brother well enough to understand the silent instruction. Don't follow, unless it sounds like I need help.

Munkustrap wasted no time. He padded to the edge of the fence, peering out onto the street—he had the unknown cat within sight or smell, Tugger could tell by the way his fur bristled and his claws anchored onto the wood, coiled to strike. A moment later, Munkustrap jumped.

A loud, painful yowl was the first sign of the battle; luckily, it wasn't Munkustrap's, though the sound was soon followed by hisses and spits and the sound of claws meeting flesh. Tugger couldn't stand it; he didn't know if Munkustrap needed help, he couldn't see what was happening, but all the same he shoved past Skimble on the narrow fence and ran towards the noise.

On the dirt-covered road of Elmsmere Way, gray and black fur flew all about as two toms furiously swiped and scratched at one another. Tugger could make out Munkustrap, and the other tom—a large, black-furred cat. He looked grimy and rough, doubtless a hench-cat of Macavity.

With a loud yowl, the black-furred tom slammed Munkustrap onto the ground with a spray of blood, two paws pressed to the tabby's chest. It was only Munkustrap's own arm, thrust out before him and claws sinking into the hench-cat's chin, which prevented a killing blow.

It was enough for Tugger. He was no fighter, but instinct took over and he charged towards the tom pinning his brother down, delivering a firm, open-clawed strike to the side of its head. The tom snarled and released Munkustrap, whirling to face the new challenger.

Tugger gulped; he was a big cat, but this tom was even heftier, and a one-on-one tussle would most likely not end in his favour. The tom charged him, pinning Tugger to the ground almost instantly, overlong fangs aiming for his throat.

He was saved by a blur of orange fur. Skimble had followed him down from the fence and leapt onto the hench-cat's back, raking claws through its thick black fur. The tom yowled in pain and staggered back, releasing Tugger, and dropped to a low crouch.

Tugger scrambled to get his legs under him and crawled over to Munkustrap. His brother had rolled over onto his front, spitting fur and gasping for breath. There was blood on his claws and a bleeding scratch staining the fur on the side of his face but he seemed otherwise fine.

"Hurt?" Tugger asked quickly.

Munkustrap tersely shook his head; he was scratched and bruised, but not seriously injured. "You?" he asked.

"Not really," Tugger said. The tom had gotten a few good scratches on him, staining his mane with a few streaks of blood. He smiled weakly. "At least it dulls the pain of the scratches you gave me."

Munkustrap gave him a wan look and rose to his feet, joining Skimble as he kept the hench-cat in place with a glare.

The tom was in a sorry state; his black, grimy fur had been pulled out in tufts and was becoming matted with blood. He had dropped into a low crouch, panting from effort and pain as blood dripped to the pavement below. He was defeated; as the three cats rounded in on him, cornering him like a mouse, he snarled feebly.

"We don't want to kill you," Munkustrap said. "If you let us talk to you, we'll let you go."

The tom's snarl faltered for a moment as he stared at the tabby, as though not quite understanding what he was being offered.

"We know that Macavity's here somewhere," Munkustrap continued. "And we know that he has two captives. Two Jellicles, one of which is pregnant. All we want is to find them."

The black cat shook his head, coughing pitifully before speaking. "Doesn't matter. You won't. You might as well kill me now."

"You can just tell us what you know, and no one has to die."

"You don't get it, do you?" the tom rasped. He hacked and spat out a thin spatter of blood. "Nobody betrays Macavity. He knows. He always bloody knows. Once he's got his claws in you, you don't escape. You serve him, or…"

The hench-cat shuddered, though it could have been either from pain or despair. Munkustrap took a careful step closer.

"I understand," Munkustrap gently said. "We can protect you, if you'll help-"

"No, you can't," the tom hissed. A sad, pitiable look flickered over his dark features for a second. "Sorry 'bout this."

No sooner had the words been uttered than the hench-cat snarled again, launching himself at Munkustrap. He was slow and weakened from his wounds and the loss of blood; he lunged for Munkustrap's throat, but the tabby was quicker, defending himself with a powerful swipe of his claws that tore through the other cat's throat.

Blood erupted from the black fur; the tom made a choked coughing sound and collapsed to the ground next to Munkustrap, thrashing as he bled copiously from his slashed throat.

"Everlasting Cat," Skimble breathed. He turned his head from the sight of the dying cat, as did Munkustrap.

"Strange way to end an interrogation," Tugger dryly said. He stared at the shuddering tom for a few moments before also averting his gaze; he didn't feel a shred of sympathy for the thing, but he didn't need to watch him die. If the hench-cat was stupid enough to think death was a better option than betraying Macavity, then he deserved whatever he got.

"It's not funny, Tugger," Munkustrap said, agitated. He was shaking the blood from his claws. "I didn't mean for him to die."

"Yes it's funny!" Tugger hissed. "This son of a pollicle may have hurt Misto or Demeter; he's better off dead."

Munkustrap huffed, fur still bristling as he tried to catch his breath. "I'm not so sure, from the way he was talking. I just wish he hadn't attacked like that; we could have worked something out…"

"No use fretting now, but we need to keep moving," Skimble quietly urged. "Someone might come looking if this fellow's missing too long. Sounds like Macavity keeps close tabs on those who work for him."

Munkustrap nodded, leading Tugger and Skimble away from the dead tom and towards the broken fence surrounding the first row of houses. "If only he'd have told us where to go."

"Doesn't matter; we know they're in Elmsmere Way," Tugger said. "We can tear down every one of these dens if we have to."

Munkustrap gave him a weary sighed, jumping through a crack in the fence and into the dead garden of the first house.

Tugger followed, leaping through the crack and landing on the muddy ground on the other side. The recent fight had made him restless, still coasting on the adrenaline. He wanted another hench-cat to show up; he wanted Macavity himself to show up. Knowing they were so close made him feel exhilarated. Soon, he knew, he would be holding Mistoffelees in his arms again.


	24. A Little Magic

Demeter dipped her paw in the water bowl and placed it against Mistoffelees' mouth, allowing him to weakly lap up the water. They had established a rhythm; when a contraction struck, Demeter would let him roll about and moan and gasp his way through it; and when it was over, she would nuzzle him, gently lick his face for comfort, and offer him water to drink.

Mistoffelees had long since lost track of time. At first, he had tried to keep a count of the pains, since it seemed like something Jenny would do, but exhaustion left him muddled and he'd lost count a while ago. He thought the contractions had begun while it was still dark out, and now it was day; it certainly felt like he had been suffering like this for hours.

Shortly after the beginning of it all, he had tried walking around the junk-filled basement a bit, leaning heavily on Demeter. Moving around seemed to help with the help, or at least helped distract him, but his legs had grown too weak after an hour or so of the motion.

Now, all he could do was roll from side to side with every pain. He'd ended up on his back with his legs apart, too worn out and preoccupied to be bashful about lying so exposed in front of Demeter. She'd timidly asked, earlier, exactly how he planned to birth these kittens, and he'd shown her the 'help' his magic had given. With the task she was about to assist him with, he had no secrets from her anymore.

Mistoffelees finished licking the water and weakly laid his head down against the blankets. He cradled his belly, wincing at how tight and sore it felt. "Do you know how long it takes for kittens to be born?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Demeter said. She too looked stressed and exhausted. "It's different for everyone, I think. Sometimes it just takes a few hours. And then you've got Jellylorum; she told all the queens it took three days for Pouncival to be born…"

"Three days! Oh, Everlasting Cat…"

How was he going to endure three days of this? He was already so tired. Jenny hadn't told him it could take this long. In fact, she hadn't told him all that much, and he hadn't asked her all that much, having assumed that he'd be safe in the junkyard surrounded by the three experienced old queens who knew exactly how the birth process worked. He was a tom, after all, and had never needed to know such things. Demeter seemed to know more than he did, but she had never had kittens and simply couldn't know some things.

On top of all the unknowns, there was an even more terrifying prospect to come with the kittens' births: Macavity, and his intent to get rid of the ones that didn't meet his magical requirements.

Mistoffelees wondered himself if any of the kittens would end up sharing his magic. Though his powers weren't even close to Macavity's level, he'd still found the magic to flow easier since becoming pregnant, and wondered if that meant there was an extra bit of the magical energy inside him at the moment. He supposed it made sense; some of the kittens would look like Tugger, others like him, and surely that meant one or two or three would inherit some of his magical abilities.

But, he wondered despairingly, how would they be able to tell which kittens had any powers? Mistoffelees' own magic hadn't been obvious as a kitten. And it was only recently that he'd become able to do anything with it. How would Macavity know which ones were magical? Was he lying about sparing any of them, and planned to just kill them all?

He prayed to the Everlasting Cat that it wouldn't be the case, because if Macavity genuinely planned to harm any of his kittens, he would fight tooth and claw until he couldn't anymore.

He wondered if he could convince Macavity to wait until the kittens grew a bit, to see which ones were magical, to buy him some time before Macavity made him carry his own kittens. Maybe that would give him and Demeter enough time to come up with an escape plan, and maybe Tugger and Munkustrap would be able to find them, and…

… and his frantic musings were interrupted as he began to pant and lash his tail, overtaken by another contracting pain deep in his belly. Demeter calmly backed away, letting him work his way through the pain.

He hissed sharply as it went on and on, miserably flattering his ears and fighting the urge to loudly vocalize his pain so as not to alert Macavity or any of his hench-cats. He was close to tears when it finally ended, and he slumped back to the blanket with a shaky breath. With that over, Demeter began licking his face.

"I th-think it's… it's getting w-worse," Mistoffelees gasped. He was growing scared; the contractions were starting to make him dizzy and sick to his stomach. He didn't know if any of it was normal, if he was managing correctly, if he was meant to do anything else but lie there and wait for the pains to end and the kittens to appear. He'd assumed they would just… work their way out when they were ready, but was he supposed to do anything to help them along, aside from enduring the pains? Was it really supposed to hurt this much? Was it worse because he was a tom, trying to give birth like a queen?

He had never more strongly wished for Jenny's fussy attention, if only to have her tell him that his body's reactions were normal and that the kittens were all right.

"It's supposed to get more painful, I think," Demeter said regretfully. "It means it won't be long now."

"The pains are coming on f-faster too," Mistoffelees whispered.

Demeter nodded, dipping her hand on the bowl to gather some water. "I think that's normal too. It means the kittens are trying harder to come out."

He desperately hoped that was the case, and that this ordeal would be over soon. He gratefully licked at Demeter's hand, taking in the bit of water to soothe his parched mouth, and collapsed back to the blankets to wait for the next contraction.

"I wish Tugger was here," Mistoffelees said. He hadn't realized he close to tears he was all of a sudden, until he heard his own shaking voice.

"I know," Demeter said, rubbing at his ears to try and soothe him. "I wish he was here too. Or at least-"

She didn't get to finish her thought. Both of them stiffened at the telltale sound of the furniture scraping against the door at the top of the stairs as it was levitated out of the way.

Demeter scrambled to put herself between Mistoffelees and the path of the staircase. "Maybe it's just Cheswick," she said nervously. They were due to be fed again, though neither had eaten in the last day.

"No," Mistoffelees gasped. There was no mistaking the cold, creeping aura of magic. "It's Macavity. He's coming down to see us."

Demeter's fur bristled. "I won't let him touch you."

"Maybe I… I can… can hide this from him," Mistoffelees said, reaching for Demeter so he would have enough leverage to pull himself up. "If he doesn't know the kittens are coming, he'll leave us alone for the moment."

Laboriously, with Demeter's assistance, he sat up on the blankets nest, despite the intense discomfort and the dizziness this brought on, and tried to relax his features, to keep his tail still and his breathing steady. With a small whimper, he shifted aside and folded up part of the gray woolen blanket to hide the stain of blood-tinged fluid. A lot of it was still on the fur between his thighs and he hoped his dark coat colour would hide it.

Maybe with a small bit of luck, he could fool Macavity into believing he was just feeling a bit under the weather. All he had to do was act agreeable. He placed a hand on his stomach, a little unnerved at how vividly the kittens were moving now, as though they were all competing to be the first one out. Just wait. Please, don't come out while Macavity is here. Just wait.

"You think you can hide the pains from him?" Demeter asked.

"I have to try."

As the stairs began to creak, she gave him a quick, appraising look and kindly said,

"You don't look good."

"I don't feel good," Mistoffelees agreed. He drew in a shaky breath and tried to look neutral as Macavity sauntered into the basement. Bixbite was at his side, but Cheswick was conspicuously absent.

"Good day to you both," Macavity said pleasantly, as though they were guests for tea and not prisoners. "Are you both well-rested? You seemed out of sorts after yesterday's discussion."

"We're fine," Demeter spat. She spoke evenly, but not so much that Macavity would suspect they were intentionally trying to cajole him. Mistoffelees was grateful for her acting talents.

"I hope you've given my offer some thought," Macavity said. It took Mistoffelees a few moments to realize he was being addressed. "I would hate to be cruel, when it is so unnecessary. I have everything here that could make you happy and comfortable."

Mistoffelees nodded shakily and decided to let Macavity interpret that however he wanted, unable to speak as another contraction began. He struggled to look natural, to hide the trembling of his body. As hard as he tried, he couldn't stop himself from breathing audibly, his ears flattening on his head.

Demeter picked up on his distress; her ears were twitching nervously in his direction, listening to his breathing. Luckily, it seemed Macavity was still oblivious.

"Well, come on now," Macavity said gently, opening his arms to both cats. "On your feet. It would be nice to begin our new lives together as equals."

Demeter rose, if only to placate Macavity, and placed herself in front of Mistoffelees.

"He's… he's not feeling well today," Demeter said. "The kittens are being difficult; he needs to lie down."

"Really?" Macavity asked, curiously peering down at Mistoffelees' huddled body. "You do seem out of sorts. What's wrong with you?"

Bixbite shouldered his way past Demeter and knelt down, snickering as he grasped Mistoffelees' scruff with his dirty paw to pull his head back.

"Looks like he's going to cry again," the hench-cat said, shaking Mistoffelees' head. The sudden motion, on top of the ongoing contraction, made his stomach twinge. "Can't even take it like a queen, eh?"

"You let him go," Demeter said. She hovered nervously over Bixbite, aware that Macavity was right behind her, letting his hench-cat have his bit of entertainment. "Please, just leave him alone."

The struggle to keep the pain from showing was worsening Mistoffelees' nausea. He needed to move, to pant, to cry out, anything to work his way through it.

Bixbite gave him another taunting shake, and before he could do anything to stop it, his stomach lurched and he vomited into the hench-cat's lap.

"Argh, bloody pollicle hell!" Bixbite cried, leaping back and staring down with horror at his soiled fur. "You stupid little git! Look what you did to me!"

As bad as he felt, Mistoffelees had to admit that the sight of the disgusted tom brought him a grim satisfaction. Now that he had been released, he dropped forward onto all fours with a wavering groan, counting on his sudden bout of illness to explain his uncontrolled trembling. The contraction soon ended, thank the Everlasting Cat, though his stomach still roiled with nausea.

Macavity chuckled at the sight of his fuming hench-cat. "Well, Bixbite, it seems you rather deserved that one. Now please, go keep Demeter company while I speak with Mistoffelees."

Bixbite furiously tried to shake the mess from his fur, glaring hard at Mistoffelees as he grasped Demeter's arm and pulled her away, none-too-gently, from the blanket nest.

"Feeling a little unwell, are we?" Macavity simpered as he crouched down to Mistoffelees' level, though wisely not close enough to be struck in the event of a second bout of vomiting. Pity, Mistoffelees thought. "Do you not like the food I provide for you? Am I doing anything to make you uncomfortable?"

Still trembling, Mistoffelees looked up into Macavity's sharp eyes and swallowed thickly.

"The food is f-fine," he rasped, and forced a smile. Anything to please Macavity, to get him away as quickly as possible. "It's just a bit of illness from… f-from carrying the kits. I need to sleep."

"He really does," Demeter nervously supplied. Bixbite still had her by the arms and was sniffing at the back of her neck, though she didn't seem to notice, focused as she was on Mistoffelees.

"I'll let you sleep soon enough," Macavity said. "First, rise up. I want to get a good look at you."

He couldn't protest; Macavity grabbed him by the arms and all but lifted him to his feet, leaving him to waver a bit before he found his balance.

"You see?" Macavity purred. "I can be very gentle when needed. Can you see how gentle I would be with our kittens? I could take care of you, if you would let me…"

Macavity's words became a jumble to Mistoffelees' ears; he could do little but nod, acquiescing to whatever the Hidden Paw was saying, praying to the Everlasting Cat that he would be able to maintain the façade just long enough. All he had to do was find the will to hide the next contraction.

It began to build faster than he expected. He tried to stay calm- especially while standing so close to Macavity, a thick paw still wrapped around his arm—but the pain grew in intensity until he could do nothing to restrain his reaction: he gasped loudly as his hands flew up to cradle his stomach, interrupting Macavity's speech, and his legs buckled beneath him.

As he toppled down, Mistoffelees blindly and instinctively reached out for something to grasp, and to his horror he grabbed onto Macavity's fur and wound up resting his head against the bigger cat's chest, helplessly panting through the pain.

To his revulsion, Macavity was attempting to comfort him, holding him close to his large chest and stroking his neck. "There there," he cooed, with insincere sympathy. "So that's what's bothering you, hm? It's only a little pain. You can manage."

By the time the contraction ended, leaving Mistoffelees to gulp for breath, Macavity was entirely supporting his body. It was all the small tom could do to turn his face away from the thick ginger fur, sickened by the cold, smoky scent. His hands were still tightly wound in Macavity's fur, shaking hard.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Macavity said soothingly. "Isn't this a happy occasion? You're having kittens."

"No…" Mistoffelees moaned. It couldn't end like this; he didn't want Macavity near him right now, and especially not near his kittens. It wasn't safe. He needed to protect them.

"I've never had the privilege of watching kittens come into the world. I look forward to seeing the process."

"No," Mistoffelees rasped again. "Not my kittens…" He tightened his grip around Macavity's fur, unsheathing his claws. He knew it wouldn't do much to harm Macavity, but his paws were shaking, itching, aching to hurt him somehow, to put him far away from his soon-to-be-born kittens.

"Bixbite," Macavity called out. He had begun stroking the fur of Mistoffelees' back, making the small tom hiss in fury. "Would you go find where Cheswick has gone off to, and prepare a special bed upstairs? We need to prepare for the new arrivals."

"Get away from me…" Mistoffelees rasped. He tried to push Macavity away from him, though it was like pushing at a solid wall. He had to protect his kittens. His hands were aching again, burning, as though his anger was fueling him. His fingers began to twitch, claws pricking at Macavity's skin.

"Quiet, little thing," Macavity said, leaning in close to speak in his ear. He was still rubbing Mistoffelees' back. "You'll exhaust yourself before it's time."

When Macavity leaned in a bit closer to nuzzle him, that was it. Too much, too close. A hiss turned into a growl as his hands tensed against the ginger fur.

"I said get away from my kittens, you son of a pollicle!"

A bright flash of light filled Mistoffelees' field of vision. He wondered for a flicker of a second if he'd passed out, or died, but the heat surging through his hands kept him anchored to the physical world.

Someone screamed in pain; it may have been Macavity, it may have been Mistoffelees. When the sensations cleared, Mistoffelees was surprised to find himself still standing, while Macavity lay sprawled on the ground a few feet away, unconscious, large burns visible through the smoking fur of his chest.

Mistoffelees blinked through his dizziness; his hands still tingled, giving off the odd spark of light, and to his shock he realized he had done this, had somehow managed to strike down Macavity with his magic.

"Hey… boss?"

He heard Bixbite's apprehensive query, heard the tom take a few careful steps in his direction. But a second later, Mistoffelees jumped and nearly lost his balance as Bixbite yowled and crashed to the floor just next to him; he thrashed around, clutching his blood-soaked face.

Demeter's hands were then on him, gently shaking him out of his trance. "Misto, are you hurt? We have to run. Now."

"What… what did I do?" Mistoffelees asked, staring down at Macavity. The Hidden Paw was completely knocked out, though his chest still rose and fell with harsh breaths. Not dead, but injured.

"When you screamed at him, it… it made light come out of your paws," Demeter said, nervous and on edge. She took Mistoffelees' arm and made him place it around her shoulders, gently but firmly urging him towards the staircase. "Like lightning during a storm. Did you kill him?"

"I don't know, I-"

Mistoffelees noticed the bloodstains on her claws and looked down to the hench-cat, who had rolled over to his front and moaned pitifully, scrabbling at his face.

"What did you-"

"He can't see us escape if his eyes are scratched out," Demeter huffed, determined now as they began to climb the staircase, step by pained step. "I just hope that other one isn't keeping watch upstairs."

Mistoffelees held onto her with one hand, using the other to support his stomach. He could still feel the tingle, the energy coasting all along his fur, and a quick glance down confirmed his suspicion: he was sparkling again.

They reached the top of the staircase and cautiously peered around the doorway; there was no one, no Cheswick, no scent of any other cats, and they hurried through the crack by the front door and towards the open road of Elmsmere Way, away from the unconscious Macavity and the maimed hench-cat, toward freedom at last.

However, as Mistoffelees groaned and wavered against Demeter as another contraction began, he hoped time was on their side.

***

Tugger was growing desperate. The initial thrill of defeating the hench-cat and beginning their search, now that they knew they were in the right area, had worn off and been replaced by anxiety. It felt as though they'd been at it for hours, squeezing through fences and pawing at the burnt wreckage of houses to try and find Mistoffelees and Demeter.

Skimble dutifully marched on, while Munkustrap had grown quiet and irritable. Tugger couldn't blame him; he felt ready to snap as well.

They hadn't run into any more hench-cats, or any other sign of life, for that matter. Coricopat and Tantomile had said that Macavity was using magic to hide his captives, to hide their scents, and despite how powerful the Hidden Paw was said to be, Tugger was sure he would be able to bypass the magic somehow, or at least be able to feel where it was being used.

But no, nothing. The roads were eerily quiet, the houses empty and abandoned. The only sounds came from the occasional gust of wind, rustling the dead vegetation and kicking up specks of the drying mud on the ground.

"We're running out of time, Munkustrap," Skimble said. He leapt to the top of another fence, leaving groove marks in the wood, and grimly looked out into the deserted streets.

Tugger heard his brother murmur in agreement—he wasn't paying attention, scrabbling up the fence and sighing as the gusting wind ruffled his mane. His fur was such a mess; he hadn't groomed in days, and on top of that it was caked with mud and now his own blood, dried over the still-stinging scratches from the brief scuffle with the hench-cat. He could only imagine what-

Wait. There was a scent on the air. A scent he knew. A scent he was finally able to pick up!

"Mistoffelees," he whispered, and he twitched his whiskers as he detected a second, familiar scent. Munkustrap and Skimble both gave him a puzzled look, but soon they too turned their noses to the wind.

"And Demeter," Skimble said, finishing his thought.

"We're closer than we thought," Munkustrap said. To Tugger's surprise, he cracked a smile.

And just like that, elation was back. Munkustrap was the first to jump down from the fence, following the scent, and Tugger soon followed.


	25. Seven Kittens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hang on to your tails, here comes the birth chapter!

"We'll be fine; we just need to make it back to the junkyard," Demeter said between breaths. She repeated it like a chant, as though it would help ward off panic. "Everything will be fine."

They'd stopped in the road for about the tenth time. Mistoffelees was arched forward, supporting his body on a damp, moss-covered rock decorating the front lawn of a now-ruined house. He bit his lip to try and stifle his cries as he waited for a swift, hard contraction to pass.

They'd escaped Macavity's den, but their progress was slow. It seemed that every few steps, Mistoffelees had to stop to ride out a contraction, which seemed to be coming on so strong and fast now that he barely had time to catch his breath in between.

"Come on," Demeter urged, wrapping her arms around his body as he began to straighten up, his sense of balance long gone. "We just need to keep moving. We'll be home soon. We'll be fine."

"The yard's hours away," Mistoffelees moaned.

They had barely made it a few more paces, about to turn a corner on the road, when another contraction, stronger than any so far, struck hard and fast. It was only the lack of breath that kept Mistoffelees from screaming in pain.

But there was something different about this pain; it brought about the overwhelming sensation of needing to push the kittens out, and suddenly he understood what he was meant to do to help them out. He couldn't help the urge, and stopped in his tracks, all but hanging from Demeter's arms as he groaned from the effort, torn between obeying his body's command to push, and not wishing to birth a kitten right there in the street, out in the open and vulnerable.

"Misto?" Demeter asked, noticing the change in his reactions. He squeezed her arm as his face tightened and she frantically tried to keep him upright as his legs began to wobble. "Come on, focus. We can make it."

Mistoffelees shook his head, gasping for breath as the pain ended for the moment. He couldn't fight the need to push any longer. "I… I need to stop. They're ready to come out. Right now!"

Demeter whimpered softly. After casting a worried look around, she tightened her grip around Mistoffelees' body and began pulling him towards the nearest house. They were barely a few rows past Macavity's den, but they simply had to chance hiding here, especially since Mistoffelees was clearly unable to continue.

The front door to the house was latched shut and impossible to push open, even though Demeter gave it a shove with her full weight. One of the windows had a small crack in it; with Demeter's help, Mistoffelees climbed the short height to the windowsill, panting from the exertion, and they both managed to squeeze through the crack without catching the edges of the broken glass.

They dropped to the floor inside the house. Unlike Macavity's den, which had been filled with junk, this home was bare, the walls slightly smoke-damaged. The floor was dusty and covered with a torn, threadbare carpet. It was hardly a hospitable place in which to birth a litter of kittens, but it was certainly better than staying outside, out in the open where Macavity and any remaining hench-cats could easily spot them.

The far left of the living room opened into a small cubby-space. Demeter led him toward the area, as far away from the door and windows as possible, and that was about as far as Mistoffelees could go before his legs gave out. Weak and trembling, he curled onto his side and drew his legs as close to his chest as he could, and felt Demeter's hands on him, nervously moving his tail out of the way.

"All right," Demeter said. Her breaths had grown panicked. "H-how do you feel?"

Mistoffelees nearly laughed at her question. Instead, he coughed a bit as his breath kicked up dust from the carpet by his cheek, wishing they'd brought along some of the water from the basement. "Like I'm about to… to have kittens."

"Well, I'm right here," she said, patting his leg lightly. "I'm here for them. When they come out, I'll take them, all right? You'll be fine."

Mistoffelees nodded. She was trying to reassure herself as much as him, but all the same he appreciated the platitudes. He tensed as another contraction began, feeling a small glimmer of gratitude as Demeter immediately removed her hand from him, knowing that the physical contact was still uncomfortable.

A low hiss began to build in his throat, turning into a stuttered groan as he gave in to the urge to push the first kitten out. He shook all over with the strain and relaxed with a loud breath as the pain ended. No kitten had appeared yet, though there was an uncomfortable pressure now in his lower abdomen.

"You're doing fine, Misto," Demeter soothed, with a tremor in her voice. "Push when you're ready. I'm here."

Mistoffelees did, trusting his body and instincts as the next contraction came seconds later. Soon the house fell to silence but for his laboured gasps and the sound of his tail thumping against the ground as he pushed.

He yelped and dug his claws into the floor at a sudden sharp, burning pain between his legs. Through the rush of his pulse in his ears, he suddenly heard Demeter's stunned gasp, followed by a curious, high-pitched mew.

"Dem… Demeter?" Mistoffelees asked dazedly.

"It's a tom, Misto," Demeter whispered. "Your first kitten is a tom."

Mistoffelees wearily raised his head from the ground, to see Demeter holding a messy, squirming newborn kitten in her hands.

Oh Everlasting. His firstborn kit. He reached for the mewling kit with a shaking hand and Demeter brought it closer so that he could touch its damp little head, though she was careful not to pull on the cord still connected to its abdomen. It nudged against Mistoffelees' hand with its pink nose as though recognizing its parent, eyes still shut. Its fur was white and deep brown, and even though it was wet with blood and fluid, the fluff of fur around its neck was obvious.

"He looks like Tugger," Mistoffelees said with a watery smile.

"We're going to need a blanket," Demeter said. She seemed both awed and terrified of the tiny kitten in her hands, holding him carefully as his small paws kicked at the air. "Or anything to put him and the other kittens in. I can't hold them all in my arms."

She was right, and the awful, dirty floor was no place to put down newborn kittens. Mistoffelees was about to ask to hold his kitten, to give Demeter the chance to search the house for what they needed, but he flinched at the sound of scrabbling at the front window.

Demeter jumped too, though she was careful to protectively cradle the kitten as shadows moved behind the dirty, opaque glass and moved towards the crack. Had Macavity found them?

"Mistoffelees? Demeter!"

Mistoffelees nearly cried in relief; definitely not Macavity, and instead a very familiar nose and pair of eyes peeked through the cracked glass.

"Munkustrap!" Demeter cried. "We're in here!"

"Tugger and Skimble are with me," Munkustrap called back through the window. "Are you both all right?"

"We need help! Misto is having the kittens!"

There came more sounds of scuffling and Munkustrap's eyes disappeared from the crack. A second later, the glass shattered under the force of a hard kick and Tugger tumbled inside the house.

"Everlasting, Tugger! You could have hurt yourself."

Ignoring his brother, Tugger leapt over the broken glass and ran to Mistoffelees' side, dropping to his knees, momentarily stunned and motionless at the sight of his mate, alive and well but in the middle of laboring, and of Demeter by his side, holding a crying kitten in her arms. He seemed torn as to where to focus his attention.

Mistoffelees reached for him, pulling him down for a nuzzle. "Tugger!"

"I'm so sorry," Tugger said. He nuzzled his mate back and kissed him furiously, glancing at Demeter as the kitten gave another mewl. "We took so long to find you and I should have been here while you… is-is that…?"

"Our firstborn kitten," Mistoffelees said, smiling shakily. "I think he has your mane."

"Oh, Misto…" Tugger breathed. His hands hovered close to Demeter's arms, as though he was afraid of touching the small bundle.

"Take him," Demeter gently said. "Hold your son, Tug."

Tugger hesitated for a moment before touching the kitten, as though afraid of hurting the small creature, but quickly opened his arms and cradled the small body close to his chest. At the change in handlers, the kitten gave a strong mewl and buried its face into Tugger's mane.

Avoiding the shards of glass on the floor, Munkustrap and Skimble joined the small group. Munkustrap sank to his haunches beside Demeter, nuzzling her and laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Munk," she whispered, pressing herself to her mate. "We need something… a blanket, a box, anything for the rest of the kittens."

"I'll see what I can find," Skimble said, at once scrambling towards the back rooms of the house.

"Where's Macavity?" Munkustrap asked softly. "Is he here somewhere?"

"Mistoffelees hurt him with his magic," Demeter said. "But I don't think he's dead. His den was a street away over by-"

They all flinched as Mistoffelees suddenly cried out, twisting about on the floor under the grips of another contraction. The pain was strong, though it didn't bring about the urge to push, and Mistoffelees anchored his claws into the floor again as he waited for it to pass.

"It's all right, Misto, it's all right…" Tugger said, holding the kitten tightly to his chest and leaning down to embrace Mistoffelees. The gesture was meant to be soothing, he knew, but the contact only made his fur stand on end and broke his concentration.

"Don't touch me," Mistoffelees hissed, and gave Tugger a swat with his claws. He whimpered against the floor as the pain ended, regretting his action immediately at the hurt look on his mate's face. "I'm s-sorry… it just hurts so much, and…"

"It's all right, I understand," Tugger said softly.

"Not during the birthing pains, that's all," he whispered. "But now, it… it's all right. Just touch me, nuzzle me… anything. I-I missed you so much."

Tugger immediately moved to obey. This part, at least, was a comfort, and he sighed gratefully as Tugger obliged his request and leaned down to soothingly stroke his head. The kitten gave a happy mew as it recognized the scent of both its parents close together.

"Here we go, now," Skimble said as he hurried in from a side room, dragging a thick crocheted blanket and a human bowler hat in his arms. "This is the best I could find. At least the hat's clean enough."

"It'll be fine," Mistoffelees panted. He was thankful to have this support; now that his mate and Skimble at least were here, he could concentrate on birthing the rest of the kittens.

"Now Tugger," Skimble said, putting down the bowler hat and shaking out the blanket. "You see that little cord going to your kit's belly? That needs to be bitten off, but carefully. Would you do the honors?"

Tugger nodded and carefully shifted the kitten in his arms, hesitating at the task for only a split second before severing the tiny cord with the edge of a fang. To Mistoffelees' surprise, he immediately began to lick the kitten clean, unmindful of the birth fluids; it was pleasant to see the normally-squeamish Tugger take to this task so readily.

"He does have your mane," Demeter remarked with a laugh, as the kitten's fur began to dry and the tiny ruffle became apparent.

With a proud grin, Tugger gently placed the kitten inside the bowler hat. Still at Demeter's side, Munkustrap peered down inside the hat.

"He's very handsome," Munkustrap remarked, turning his head slightly when Demeter noticed the scratch on his face and went to paw at it. "We searched for days and only managed to catch your scents a few minutes ago. Are you both all right?"

"We're not injured, if that's what you mean," Demeter said, watching as Skimble motioned for Tugger to help him spread the blanket out onto the ground next to Mistoffelees. "Macavity was unconscious when we escaped his den, but I don't know if he's going to wake up, or come looking for us."

"I'll keep watch," Munkustrap nodded. "We fought a tom out in the road, a big one with a black coat. Do you know if Macavity had any other hench-cats with him?"

"We only ever saw two with him," Demeter said. "The other one won't follow us; I scratched his eyes out." She smiled shyly in Mistoffelees' direction. "After Misto hacked up on him."

"Really?" Tugger smirked. He gave Mistoffelees' arm a quick rub. "Way to go, Misto."

"Oh, shut it," Mistoffelees said, though he smiled weakly at his mate's amusement.

"Tugger, my boy, why don't you help me lift him," Skimble said as he finished preparing the blanket.

Skimble grasped his legs while Tugger carefully slid his hands around his shoulders, and together they lifted him and deposited him onto the blanket. It was more comfortable than the awful floor and Mistoffelees sighed in relief as the thickness of the blanket helped to ease some of the aches in his body. His gaze rested on Skimble, who had taken over Demeter's place and was now carefully maneuvering his legs so they were drawn as close to his chest as possible.

"Skimble?" he asked timidly. "Jenny said you know what to do, right?"

"There isn't really much for me to do," Skimble said warmly. "You're the one doing all the hard work, little one. But I've helped Jenny with her own litters before. Just try to keep calm and help the kittens along when they're ready."

Mistoffelees nodded, then began to pant harshly at the next hard contraction. He recognized the sensation of pressure very well this time, and reached out blindly to catch Tugger's wrist as he pushed.

"Misto?" Tugger asked, grasping Mistoffelees' hand. This particular touch didn't seem to irritate him and he squeezed Tugger's hand back.

He barely had time to take in a breath between pains. "N-now…" he gasped. "One's coming…"

"You did fine with the first one," Demeter said. Her voice was close to his ears, as though he had leaned down to nuzzle him but stopped short. "Just relax and do the same thing as before."

"She's got the right idea," Skimble said. "We're all here for it when you're ready."

Having Tugger and the others nearby seemed to make the process easier; the second kitten came much faster, and before he could yell at the pain of its small body coming out, he heard excited gasps and titters from the gathered cats.

"Misto, look," Tugger whispered. "That one looks just like you."

"It's a little queen," Skimble said, holding up the squirming newborn for Mistoffelees to see. Tugger was right; she was a black-and-white tuxedo, just like him, and she gave a dainty mew as her paws scrabbled at the air.

Tugger released his hands and reached for the kitten, swiftly severing the cord on her belly and licking her black-and-white fur clean. Mistoffelees gave a tired breath and nuzzled her briefly, before she was placed in the hat against her brother.

"Two kittens, we have two kittens now," Tugger said, rubbing the back of Mistoffelees' neck as he tried to rest before the next contraction hit. With an unsteady hand, the small tom reached for Tugger's hand and guided it lower onto his back, wordlessly begging him to help take away some of the pains. He whimpered as Tugger massaged his back; he felt as though a pollicle had kicked him there.

"Rest while you can," Skimble said, settling down on his haunches and wiping at his own brow with a bright look in his eyes. "Well! Jenny's going to have my hide, you know. She was so excited to be the one to help your kittens come into the world, and now I'm stealing her glory."

Mistoffelees weakly smiled, trying to relax as Tugger continued to rub firm circles into his back. "How… how long is this all supposed to take?"

Skimble kindly shrugged. "It's all up to your little ones, I'm afraid. Jenny's last litter was out quicker than a flash—she carried on for a bit, gave me a few good nicks, and we had the kittens before the hour was up. But we weren't waiting on seven little kittens, either. Well, five now."

Mistoffelees nodded and sighed. From where he lay, he could see Demeter, who had settled down close to the bowler hat where the first two kittens now rested. At the sound of a gentle mew, she glanced inside it and smiled.

From across the ground floor of the house, past the small pile of broken glass, Munkustrap sat perched on the windowsill, keeping watch for any incoming cats, though more than half the time he kept looking back to the small group with an anxious look on his face.

Mistoffelees signaled the start of the next contraction with a loud groan; Tugger caught on quickly, removing his hands from his mate's back and helplessly hovering by while he dealt with the pain. Mistoffelees had hoped that each subsequent kitten would come out faster, but unfortunately this next kitten seemed ready to take its time.

He lost count of how many pains it took before the third kitten was ready to come out; by that point, he'd knocked Tugger's hands away from his own and squirmed onto his back, whimpering as the kitten's head was delivered, and finally the rest of its body.

"Oh, she's so beautiful," Demeter said. She'd taken over rubbing his head while Tugger washed the kitten, a black queen with rusty gold patches, who was already falling asleep in her father's hands.

"It's no surprise the two of you are making some pretty kittens," Skimble said, smiling warmly and patting Mistoffelees' leg. "That's three kittens done. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Mistoffelees weakly said. "I'm so thirsty. And I feel—uhn!"

He'd gotten used to expecting a few minutes' rest between kittens and wasn't prepared for the next contraction to start so hard and fast. The urge to push came on just as strongly; his hand flailed out and he stuck his claws into the nearest soft target—Tugger's leg, as it turned out, drawing blood and a small whimper from his mate as he dug deep into the flesh to deal with the pain.

"Wait—Misto!" Tugger gasped, still working to clean his daughter. "Wait a minute!"

"I can't wait!" Mistoffelees screamed. He pushed hard and didn't let go of Tugger's leg until he felt the sharp pain of the kitten's body sliding out and heard its squealing mew.

"A tom," Skimble grinned, holding up the fidgeting newborn. "This little one was anxious to come meet us, wasn't he?"

Mistoffelees watched as Tugger placed the sleeping queen in the hat with her siblings and took the small tom-kit. Worn out from its unexpectedly quick birth, he gasped, "Tug, he… he has your spots."

"He does, doesn't he?" Tugger said with pride, licking their son clean as the kitten made squealing sounds of protest and tried to roll about in Tugger's arms. "I think he's the one who kept demonstrating his dance moves."

Mistoffelees gave a weak chuckle, sighing as he felt Demeter rub the back of his neck. Glancing over to the windowsill, Mistoffelees frowned. The fourth kitten's delivery had left him hazy and he only just noticed that Munkustrap was gone.

"Where's…" Mistoffelees began, pausing to catch his breath. "Where's Munk?"

"He's just outside," Demeter said. "He went to find you some water."

"B-but it's not safe out there! Macavity could-"

"He's fine, Misto. He knows how to be careful. He'll be back in a minute."

"But he… he shouldn't…"

Mistoffelees painfully rolled over onto his side. Tugger was still kneeling by his head, having just gently laid their son down in the hat; the small tom buried his face into the sleek black fur of his mate's legs, dampening it with tears.

"Oh, Misto," Tugger breathed, stroking his ears and head. "Everything's all right, don't worry. You're doing fine."

"I'm s-s-sorry," Mistoffelees cried. "This is taking so long… and… and it's not safe here… and…"

"Lad, kittens take the time they need to take," Skimble gently said. "You can't make them come any faster or slower, trust me. Try to stay calm and keep your breathing steady, all right? It won't do you or the kittens any good to tire yourself out."

Mistoffelees nodded shakily against Tugger's leg, peeking out with one eye as he felt Skimble's hands on his hips.

"Let's try something. Jenny said this usually helps the kittens move along easier."

He followed the guiding hands, laboriously hoisting himself up onto all fours on the thick blanket. His limbs wavered under the effort but the change in position did feel good, if only because it helped stretch his muscles. Glancing down, he blinked a little curiously at the sight of the reducing swell of his belly.

This new position brought him face-to-face with Tugger, who shifted so he could kneel directly in front of him on the blanket, smiling encouragingly. It was the first good look Mistoffelees had gotten of his mate since their reunion; Tugger looked stressed and as though he hadn't slept in days. His mane was a fright and his normally-pristine fur matted with mud and… was that blood?

"You're a mess, Tug," Mistoffelees said dazedly.

"Sorry," Tugger said with a slight laugh. "I had more important things to take care of first. We can't all look as gorgeous as you."

"Oh yes," Mistoffelees bitterly chuckled. "I'm sure I look stunning at the moment."

Reaching up to tenderly pet his ears, Tugger said, "You do. No, really. You look so…"

"Frightful?"

"I was going to say beautiful."

"You have horrible taste, Tug," Mistoffelees said with a pitiful smile, soon lost to the pain of another contraction.

It did seem a little easier to deal with the unforgiving pain in this position and he rocked on all fours for a few moments, panting loudly and clawing holes into the blanket until it was over. He swallowed thickly as Tugger nudged him and licked his face.

"I-I don't feel well," Mistoffelees murmured.

Tugger immediately stopped the licking and gave him a measured look. "Are you going to be sick?"

Mistoffelees could do little but give a trembling shrug. He hadn't even heard Munkustrap return, and in fact he hadn't noticed the tabby was standing by him until he saw Tugger urgently motion to him. Munkustrap knelt by him, holding a porcelain cup with a broken handle, filled to the brim with water.

"It's fresh, from the recent rain," Munkustrap said, handing him the cup. Holding it with shaking paws, Mistoffelees gratefully gulped down the water; almost instantly, his nausea dissipated. Amazing how such a small thing made him feel so much better in the middle of this trial.

"Thanks, Munk," Mistoffelees rasped. Munkustrap gave him an encouraging nod and Mistoffelees wondered if he'd been itching to do something practical to help this whole process along.

When the next difficult contraction came, he cried out and lowered his upper body to the blanket, rocking back and forth with his rear high up in the air, long past caring about everyone seeing him in such an undignified position. Whatever helped him deal with the pain was worth it.

When the urge to push came, Mistoffelees straightened himself up, clumsily reaching for a surprised Tugger and sliding his claws into his mate's shoulders as he helped the kitten along.

He groaned loudly as it was born, his own cry soon drowned out by the kitten's indignant scream it was delivered into Skimble's hands. When it was passed over to Tugger, he saw that it was a fluffy, maned calico queen. She only calmed down once Tugger began to clean her, though her cries started up again as soon as she was placed down in the hat.

"She's a loud one," Tugger remarked with a slight wince, one hand in the hat to try and soothe the crying queen.

"S-s-sounds like someone I know," Mistoffelees said, then whimpered loudly at the next contraction, dropping his upper body back onto the blanket. This had to be the worst pain so far and he hadn't even had a full minute to rest after the last kitten. "Everlasting! This… this is impossible!"

Tugger crouched low, so their eyes were level. "You're doing great, Misto. Really, you are."

"Piss off," Mistoffelees gasped. "Th-that's easy to say from… from where you're sitting!"

To his credit, Tugger barely reacted to the verbal lashing. He merely waited until the contraction was over and gave his mate a loving nuzzle.

"He's right though, lad," Skimble said from behind him. "You're almost done; only two more little ones for us to meet."

Mistoffelees wearily shook his head. He feared he was nearing his breaking point as the next contraction started; he pushed along with it, though he felt as though he would faint from the exertion as he struggled to get the sixth kitten out.

"I don't know if I can…" Mistoffelees moaned as the pain ended, with no kitten to show for his efforts yet. His arms and legs were starting to wobble under the effort of holding his weight up. "I'm so tired. And it hurts."

"I know it does," Tugger gently said. He reached out and helped steady Mistoffelees, bringing him close to his chest. "Come on, lean into me. You can scratch and bite and yell at me as much as you want. Call me names, if it helps any."

Mistoffelees would have laughed, if he hadn't still been struggling to catch his breath. He buried his face into Tugger's mane, feathering it with his heavy breaths and biting at his mate's fur and skin at the start of another contraction, stifling his howl as he pushed hard. His scream quickly turned into a sob of relief as he felt the familiar, sharp pain of the sixth kitten being born.

"There you are!" Skimble beamed. "Another little queen. You two are going to have your paws full with this litter."

He brought her to Tugger, who dutifully began to wash her clean. Mistoffelees reached up and weakly stroked her; this one was a brown tabby queen, and she kicked out her hind legs against his hand with impressive strength for one so small. He wondered if this was the kitten who had kicked him so harshly in such sensitive places these last few weeks.

Tugger finished cleaning her as she fell to sleep and placed her in the hat with her siblings. The calico queen had either fallen asleep or gotten tired of crying, and now there only came the occasional mew from the hat. Surely they were hungry now; Mistoffelees would have to figure out how to feed them once this ordeal was over.

The job done, Tugger once more placed his arms out to steady his kneeling mate. "One more," he said, licking his face. "And then you're done."

"One… one more," Mistoffelees agreed. One more kitten, and they would have their litter safely born. Then he would be able to rest, and watch and touch and bond with his kittens, and go back to the junkyard where it was safe. The thought lent him a bit of strength and when the next contraction began, he gave a shaky cry and worked to push the last kitten out.

The elation didn't last long, unfortunately, and soon his strength began to drain away. It was hard to judge how much time had passed, as every contraction left him close to unconsciousness now, but the sun had risen again and it seemed like he had been straining for hours with no progress at all.

Tugger was sharing his anxiety; his mate's breathing had quickened and Mistoffelees could hear the loud, nervous thumping of his heart against his ear. Demeter had crawled back to sit by the hatful of kittens but she too was staring at him with worry in her eyes.

When Mistoffelees turned his head, slowly and painfully, to look over his shoulder towards Skimble, the orange tabby's deep frown seemed to be an indication that things were not going right.

Even Munkustrap, still standing sentry on the windowsill, reacted to the tension. He was no longer staring out through the window, but instead looked worriedly in their direction, his tail lashing in agitation.

"Skimble, is something wrong?" Tugger asked, breaking the tense silence. He was trying to keep his tone nonchalant, but Mistoffelees could sense the underlying worry. "It's been so long for this one."

"The lad's just exhausted," Skimble said evenly. "But we're getting there. Just a bit more effort, Misto, and you'll be finished."

He certainly felt finished, Mistoffelees thought. He buried his head back into Tugger's chest to muffle his scream as the next contraction came hard and fast, whole body trembling as he pushed. There came the familiar pressure low in his pelvis, the familiar sharp pain between his legs, and for a glorious moment he expected to hear the cry of a kitten. But there came no sound yet.

"Is it… is it out?" Mistoffelees panted. He felt Skimble's hands on his lower back, gently pushing his tail out of the way.

"Not… quite yet," Skimble said.

Mistoffelees figured Skimble must have pulled a face; Tugger's hold tightened around him and he urgently asked, "What's wrong?"

"Kittens usually come out with their heads first, that's the easy way. But not this one, it seems. All I see here is a little tail."

Mistoffelees whimpered, his exhaustion momentarily overshadowed by fear. "What does that mean?"

"It just… it just means we'll need to work a little harder to get this one out. Don't worry, I've seen this before; the same thing happened when Jemima was born, and she turned out just fine, didn't she?" Skimble lightened his tone and gave Mistoffelees a small pat on the back. "There's a contrary one in every litter, you know."

"There's no doubting that litter is yours, Tugger," Munkustrap good-humoredly said from his spot on the window. "That kitten's not even born yet, and it's already being headstrong."

Tugger laughed sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Misto."

Mistoffelees could only moan; he would find the energy to laugh when this was all over.

"All right, Tugger," Skimble said. "Help him to lie down again. On his back, that'll be best—that's right."

Mistoffelees didn't resist as he was made to sink back down onto the blanket, though it brought the aches back in his body. The kneeling position had been more comfortable and had seemed to help the kittens move along, so why was he being moved now?

"Demeter," Skimble said, softly but urgently. "I'm going to need your help here. Misto… rest for a moment, you're going to need your strength."

Mistoffelees whimpered. He was ready for the pain to stop, he was ready to sleep; all he wanted was for this last kitten to be born safely so it could all end. Tugger gently caressed his ears, his gaze focused on the action as Demeter left her spot next to the hat of mewling kittens and crawled over to assist.

"Here," Skimble was saying, taking Demeter's hand. Mistoffelees watched with a worried frown as he directed her hand over his stomach, pressing against the softening swell low on his pelvis until he seemed to find what he was looking for. Mistoffelees couldn't help but wince; the pressure was hugely uncomfortable.

"Feel that?" At Demeter's nod, Skimble said, "What you're feeling are the head and the shoulders. Keep your hand there. When he pushes the next time, you'll need to push too."

"Are you sure this will work?" Demeter nervously asked.

Despite Skimble's efforts, Mistoffelees could see the doubt in his eyes. "This is what Jenny had me do when this happened to her," he said. "And it worked just fine, so this should work too. Misto, we're just going to help your kitten along, so tell us when you feel another-"

He told them clearly enough, screaming breathlessly as the next contraction struck. There was an agonizing pressure on his belly as Demeter pressed down; he struggled to push as hard as his waning strength allowed, and panted hoarsely as the pain ebbed.

"Is… is it…" Mistoffelees gasped.

"Once more," Skimble said. Mistoffelees glanced down; Skimble had hold of something, and in his foggy state, it took Mistoffelees a second to realize he was carefully grasping the kitten's hind legs. "One more push should do it. Misto, whenever you're ready…"

Mistoffelees scrambled to hold Tugger's hand and only managed to sink his claws deep into his mate's arm at the coming of the next contraction. He couldn't help but cry out, consumed by the pain and the awful sensation of the pressure on his stomach. With a final burst of effort, the last kitten was born at last, sliding free from his body with the little extra help.

"There you go, there you go," Skimble said. "All done! And it's another little queen for you two."

Mistoffelees went limp into the blanket; all he wanted was to sob with relief. He waited for the kitten to be brought closer so he could see it, but something felt wrong, and it took a few seconds to realize what was happening: the kitten wasn't mewling, or squealing, or making a single sound.

Tugger caught on as well. "She's not crying."

"What?" Demeter said. She had removed her hand from Mistoffelees' stomach and now rested it against his shoulder. "Why not? Skimble, what's going on?"

"She had a difficult time being born," Skimble said softly, staring down at the kitten. "She may not be strong enough to start breathing."

"No, don't… don't let her die," Mistoffelees whispered brokenly. "Do something!"

Ignoring the profound ache in his body, he hoisted himself up onto one elbow to see the kitten cradled in Skimble's arms; the small queen was completely black, with the exception of a tiny whitish mane around her neck and chest. But whereas the other kittens had kicked and squirmed and cried seconds after their birth, she laid limp and unresponsive in Skimble's hands.

Beside him, Tugger sprung into a crouch, staring at the quiet kitten. "So what do we do?" he urgently asked. "How do we help her? Damn it, come on!"

"I… I don't know," Skimble said. For the first time, there was an edge of panic to his voice. "Kittens have birth fluids in their throats when they're born. This wee one might be too weak and small to cough it up. Jenny might know what to do… but I've never seen this before."

"Tugger!" Mistoffelees cried. He had no strength or will to keep the tears from coming. His kitten was in distress; his kitten was going to die, and he didn't know what to do to save her.

He wondered why his mate didn't look on the verge of breaking down, as he was. Instead, Tugger got a steely, determined look in his eyes and carefully took the kitten from Skimble, holding her close to his face.

"She needs to breathe, so we help her breathe!"

Under the panicked gaze of the others, Tugger carefully pried his daughter's mouth open and covered it with his own. Still hazy, Mistoffelees didn't quite understand what he meant to do, until he pulled away and spat out fluid onto the floor.

The house was deathly silent. Tugger repeated the motion, forcing air in and out of the kitten's body and receiving another mouthful of fluid in the process, which made him gag and spit on the carpet again. After he did it for a third time, the tiny queen suddenly gave a start and her tail began to twitch.

Mistoffelees gasped, blinking through his tears. Tugger drew back from the kitten and stared at her intently as she slowly began to squirm in his hands, and finally started to weakly mewl.

"She's crying," Mistoffelees whispered.

Stunned, Skimble glanced from the revived kitten to Tugger, awe on his face. "Well, how about that… Tugger, that was astounding."

Demeter had her hands over her mouth, on the verge of tears herself. "Oh, Everlasting…"

"See, Misto? She's fine," Tugger said. He quickly bit the cord away from the kitten's stomach and lowered her to Mistoffelees' level so he could see her, touch her, and see for himself that she was alive and breathing, if only a little weak. "She's fine."

Mistoffelees took her in his arms and gently petted her damp head fur; she rolled her head about and nudged at him with her wet nose, her tiny pink mouth opening and closing as her raspy cries became stronger.

"You scared us," he whispered to the kitten, then looked up at his mate. "Tugger, I can't believe you did that. Are you sure you're not magical too?"

"Just artful," Tugger grinned, slumping down wearily on the blanket next to Mistoffelees. He grimaced and wiped at his mouth. "Ech. But I'm never doing that again."

With a tired laugh, Mistoffelees rolled back onto the blankets and handed their daughter back to Tugger. Munkustrap had leapt down from the window at some point during the panic and stood just over Skimble's shoulder, though still keeping a respectful distance away from the new family.

Tugger very gently pulled the hat closer so Mistoffelees could see their litter. "Seven kittens, right out of a hat," he said. "Now this is magical."

Mistoffelees smiled wearily and peered inside the hat. The eldest kitten, the white-and-brown one, was asleep at one end of the hat; the tuxedo queen was curled into a tight little ball and pressed close to him. The black queen with the golden patches had somehow managed to roll onto her back and made kneading motions at the air. At her side, the spotted brown tom was awake, mewling questioningly at nothing in particular. The calico queen, the loud screamer, had finally fallen asleep, though the brown tabby queen was nudging at her side.

The youngest, tiniest kitten of the litter was still in Tugger's arms. He seemed reluctant to let go of her, as though she might slip away at any moment, though her short, insistent little mews were getting stronger and stronger. Finally, he placed her within the hat, between the spotted tom and the calico, where she would be warmest until they could get back home.

"Thank you for helping, Skimble," Mistoffelees murmured.

"No worries at all," Skimble said with a smile. "I can't wait to tell Jenny all about this when we get home!"

"Speaking of which," Munkustrap said. "Is it safe to move Mistoffelees and the kittens now? We should head back to the junkyard as soon as possible, in case Macavity…"

"Of course," Skimble nodded, and leapt to his feet. "Come on, lads. Let's get ready to go home."

Mistoffelees shrank back into the blanket, wary at the thought of having to move. The pains had stopped after the birth of the last kitten, but he was dreadfully sore inside and out, and so exhausted that it was becoming difficult to keep his eyes open to watch the others rising up.

Tugger had one hand on Mistoffelees' chest and the other on the rim of the hat, as though debating which charge to carry.

"Tugger," Munkustrap said, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Carry your kittens; they need to be close to their father. I'll take care of Mistoffelees."

He was grateful that Munkustrap wrapped the blanket around him first; blood and fluids still clung to his fur and the last thing he wanted was to be paraded exposed all the way back to the junkyard, and in front of the curious Jellicles, before he had a chance to recover a bit and groom himself. Munkustrap was as gentle as possible as he gathered the small tom in his arms and lifted him up, though Mistoffelees couldn't help but whimper softly as his body was jarred.

Tugger had been staring at him, as though wanting to be sure he was all right before focusing his attention on the kittens. He anchored his claws carefully into the fabric of the hat and lifted it up so very slowly so as not to disturb the sleeping kittens or upset the ones who were still awake and mewling.

A gentle nuzzle from Demeter made Mistoffelees look up briefly and smile. Together, they stepped out from the broken front window of the house and into the mid-morning sunlight.

Mistoffelees wondered for a terrible moment if Macavity would be out there somewhere, still wounded but thinking of revenge. But he couldn't smell or sense a thing from the Hidden Paw or his hench-cats, and as the small group set a hurried pace away from Elmsmere Way, Mistoffelees sank into Munkustrap's chest with a tired sigh.

"Sleep if you want," Munkustrap said. "You're safe; the kittens are safe. We'll be home soon."

With one last glance towards Tugger, who carefully carried the hat and stared down at the kittens inside with a proud grin, Mistoffelees finally gave in to his exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep against the protector's chest.


	26. The Naming of Kits

Mistoffelees had never more strongly appreciated the bliss of complete silence, especially after what seemed like hours of cries, mews and screams.

The little calico queen, his fifth-born kitten who seemed poised to out-sing all of her siblings, had finally fallen asleep nestled in Mistoffelees' arms. She had cried and screamed with such fervor just minutes before that Mistoffelees, alone in the den, had strongly considered calling for Jenny and Jellylorum to come back and see what was wrong, but after a bit of soothing and rocking, she rolled herself into a comfortable ball in the crook of her parent's arm and finally fell asleep.

The other kittens had been surprisingly content to sleep in the hat, likely because it was already so familiar to them. Neither Mistoffelees nor Tugger minded; it certainly made it easier to keep track of the tiny kittens, and it kept them from squirming and rolling away too far.

Of course, it wasn't as though they could get very far, what with being only one day old, with their eyes still shut. They all seemed content for the moment with eating and sleeping most of the day away, huddled closely together.

Well, Mistoffelees thought, looking down at the sleeping calico. At least most of them were content to quietly sleep. It was the first time since their return to the junkyard that all seven kittens were finally quiet, and Mistoffelees himself was ready for sleep again.

They had arrived at the junkyard late yesterday and had been greeted at the entrance by a throng of worried and enthusiastic Jellicles. Until that point, he had slept bundled in Munkustrap's arms, and only woke up at the tribe's excited cries. They were easily as excited to see that he was well as they were to see that the kittens had been born.

Jenny, Jellylorum and Jezebel had first fussed over the kittens, then Mistoffelees, hustling him and Tugger back to their den with their new arrivals and ordering everyone to stay away and let the new family rest for a few days. After a rather thorough examination, Jenny had declared all seven kittens to be healthy, especially fussing over the tiny lastborn who had nearly not made it, listening in stunned disbelief as Skimble recounted the details of her difficult birth.

After another, more annoyingly thorough examination, she had declared Mistoffelees to be in fairly decent shape for someone who had just given birth under such harrowing circumstances, though had sternly ordered bed rest for him for at least the next week. She and Jezebel had brought in every spare pillow they could find and got him propped up with strict orders not to move.

Though he put up a token protest, Mistoffelees was content to obey; he was still bone-tired and in too much pain to do anything more than lie there, and watch or feed or rock the kittens.

Their beginning had been tumultuous, but everything could only get better from here on. Macavity was far away, hopefully unwilling to try his awful plans again, and he and Tugger and their kittens were safe in the junkyard. He swore to himself that nothing would threaten them from now on.

"Finally!" Tugger huffed, shouldering his way into their den. "It takes forever just to walk through the junkyard now. 'Oh, Tugger! How is Misto?' 'How are the kittens?' 'Are they adorable?' 'When can we see them?'"

His arms were laden with supplies, and the sight made Mistoffelees smile; it seemed that every time his mate stepped out, he came back in with food brought by the other Jellicles or any other number of trinkets.

Mistoffelees motioned for his mate to lower his voice, careful not to disturb the kitten sleeping in his arms. "Poor Tugger," he whispered. "You must be wilting under all that attention."

Tugger playfully rolled his eyes and, mindful of making too much noise, set down his supplies- mostly mice, a few nice-looking rats, and a large piece of fish—and a folded piece of light yellow fabric.

"Were you all right while I was out?" he asked.

"We're fine; Jenny and Jellylorum helped me to feed them," Mistoffelees said. "They're finally all asleep."

"They've got the right idea," Tugger whispered, sitting down next to Mistoffelees and giving him a quick nuzzle, careful not to bump him or the kitten in his arms. "You look like you could use some sleep too."

"It's nice to watch them when they're quiet. Besides, they won't be this small forever."

Tugger nodded thoughtfully and reached down to gently pet the calico kitten's head; she grunted daintily in her sleep. "How do you feel?"

"Still very sore," Mistoffelees admitted. "For once, I might actually listen to Jenny's advice and stay in bed. She and the others spent enough time fussing about in here, anyway."

"They do love to fuss over any new mother," Tugger said. He received a glare from his mate. "What?"

"I'm not a mother," Mistoffelees said, a little indignantly. "I'm a tom; that makes me a father."

Tugger grinned cheekily. "The most unconventional father this tribe's ever seen, that's for sure. What do you suppose the kittens should call you when they're old enough to talk?"

"They can call me the same thing they call you," Mistoffelees shrugged. "Unless you'd like for them to call you 'mama Tugger'. It does have a pleasant ring to it."

"That's quite enough of that," Tugger said. He gave his lounging mate a quick appraising look. "Did Jenny happen to check if you had, um… changed back?"

"Not yet," Mistoffelees huffed. "And not since the last time you asked. Jenny thinks it might not happen until the kittens don't need milk anymore. But get those thoughts out of your head. You're not coming near me for a good long while."

"I asked purely out of concern," Tugger said lightly. He bent over the pile of food, sorting through what looked especially good. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

Tugger's back was to him, tail swishing happily. He'd spent a bit of time the day before cleaning all the mud and blood from his mane and fur and now Mistoffelees could see the faint lines of scratches in Tugger's sleek black fur. He remembered flailing and scratching and biting quite a bit during the contractions and the more he looked, the more he could see the small wounds he'd inflicted on his mate; deep, vivid scratches on his leg, all over his shoulders, his arms…

"I scratched you up pretty badly, didn't I?" Mistoffelees guiltily said.

Tugger looked away from the food, making a great show of looking down at his own body. "I don't see anything," he said with a shrug. "Not that it matters. You had better things to worry about than giving me a few nicks." He smiled warmly and grabbed one of the mice from the pile of supplies, dangling it from its tail. "Here, are you hungry?"

"Not right now," Mistoffelees said, shaking his head with a slight grimace. He'd had some tea yesterday, but was still a little too unsettled to eat much of anything.

"You should eat something, at least, before this all spoils," Tugger said, hungrily popping the mouse into his own mouth. "Look at this! Everyone's brought you rats, mice, even some fish—we should do this more often! We'll never have to hunt for food again."

"Fine," Mistoffelees said airily. "As long as you volunteer to carry and birth the kittens next time."

Tugger raised a knowing eyebrow. "There's going to be a next time?"

The small tom only gave him a pointed look, and cocked his head in the direction of the supplies Tugger had brought in. "What did you have there, aside from the food?"

"Ah!" Tugger stretched over and grabbed the folded cloth, shaking it out. It was a pale yellow, soft-looking blanket with strange pictures on it. "Courtesy of Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer, for the kittens. They said they found it in Victoria Grove just this evening."

"Found it, did they?" Mistoffelees asked. He touched the blanket; it was soft, very much like their green fleece blanket. "Are those birds?"

"Maybe they 'found' it in some human kitten's pram," Tugger said with a light shrug. "It doesn't matter, humans can find plenty more. And I do believe these are ducks, aren't they?"

Mistoffelees smiled. "Our kittens are supposed to sleep on a blanket with pictures of food on it?"

"Why not?" Tugger asked. "I would."

Interrupting the blissful silence, the kitten in Mistoffelees' arms began to squirm and mewl plaintively.

"Is she all right?" Tugger immediately asked, on alert. "Is she hungry?"

"No, she finished nursing before you came in," Mistoffelees sighed, trying to soothe the kit with a bit of rocking. "She was crying earlier. Jellylorum said she was just… being fussy."

"Here…" Tugger carefully spread the yellow blanket on the ground before taking the disgruntled kitten and placing her down on it, petting her head with his fingertips. He laid himself out next to her so she could snuggle into his mane, while he lay close enough still that he was within touching distance of Mistoffelees. She grunted a few times, lifting her head to bump against her father's hand, eventually settling down on the blanket.

"See?" Tugger said. "All she wanted was to sleep on the food-blanket."

"I'm just glad she's asleep," Mistoffelees said. He dug his claws into the pillows beneath him to push himself up and re-adjust himself, moaning at the deep ache in his pelvis and between his thighs. With a tired sigh he rested his head back, laying his hands against the loose fur of his stomach.

"Remind me to thank Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer when I finally get to see them. As I understand it, we owe 'Jerrie a bit of gratitude for pointing you in the right direction."

"I would have found you anyway," Tugger sniffed, his attention on the kitten. It wasn't exactly a sore subject, but the panic of the last few days had left both of them rattled. They'd barely spoken about it since returning to the junkyard, focusing their attention on their new litter instead.

Mistoffelees was thankful to have this huge distraction; all the better to help him forget all about the last few horrible days. Demeter had been one of the few Jellicles allowed to visit in the last day; she already looked much better than she did while in Macavity's clutches, but it was clear the incident was going to weigh on her heart for quite some time still.

"Besides," Tugger said quietly, glancing up to meet Mistoffelees' eyes. "From what I hear, you're the one who had the biggest hand in defeating Macavity."

Mistoffelees shrugged. "It was just luck."

"It was just magic, more like," Tugger insisted. "Seems to be a theme with you these days. You're more powerful than you give yourself credit for."

The small tom shrugged again. Though he was happy his magic had served him in a crisis, he didn't want to dwell on it at the moment.

"So tell me," Mistoffelees said, eager for a change in topic. "Have I missed any junkyard gossip?"

Tugger nodded vigorously, as though he'd just recalled something important. "Believe it or not, you have. I bumped into Cassandra on my way back in—I mean, I was bumping into everyone, it was hard not to—and she had a bit of news she wanted to share with you."

Mistoffelees smiled. He had an idea about the nature of the news. "Kittens?"

"She found out just earlier today. Maybe once hers are born, we can have races."

"This yard's going to be overrun with kittens in a few months."

"Absolutely," Tugger said, glancing down to make sure the little queen was still sleeping. "I don't think I've ever had to learn so many new names all at once. Though according to Jellylorum, everyone will know their names well enough when we're yelling at them to get down from the junk piles."

"Would it help if they all wore little signs, so you would remember which kitten is which?"

It was a jest, of course; he and Tugger had spent enough time choosing names, but Mistoffelees was not yet tired of going over every kitten, committing their appearances and scents to his memory.

Hoisting himself a bit closer to the hat, Mistoffelees placed a hand within and moved quietly so as not to wake any of the sleeping kittens, his actions as much for his own sake as for assuring himself Tugger did, in fact, know their names.

"Cyrano," Mistoffelees said, giving the eldest tom-kit a careful scratch behind the ears. He was easily the biggest and, as if on instinct, positioned himself like the protector of the litter; no matter where they placed him in the hat, he managed to squirm back towards the front of his siblings, as though wanting to keep an eye on them all. Demeter had been pleased to pet and watch the kitten who shared her father's name, even more so since she had been the one who helped deliver him.

"Tourmaline," Mistoffelees said, petting the sleek black fur of the tuxedo queen-kit. It was strange to see such a small version of himself; he wondered if it meant she would somehow be more like him, rather than Tugger. Was she one of the kits who would turn out to be magical?

"Cappella." The black queen with golden patches; it made him smile to see the color of Tugger's cherished golden fur mixed so perfectly with his own black-as-night coat. The little queen was a careless sleeper and had already managed to roll over her closest sister to sprawl over the other tom of the litter, one of her tiny little hind feet pressed to the side of his head.

"Aloysius," Mistoffelees continued. The spotted brown tom didn't seem to mind his sister stepping all over him, patiently sleeping on. "I'm going to suppose he doesn't get his serene disposition from you, Tug."

As if on cue, the calico queen let out a loud, indignant mew and squirmed against Tugger's chest. He rubbed at her long, fluffy fur until she quieted down again. "I suppose you're about to say Josephine here gets her fussiness from me."

"You do seem like two of a kind," Mistoffelees smiled. He turned his attention back to the kittens in the hat, where Cyrano had begun sleepily chewing on the tip of Cappella's tail.

Tugger joined him, reaching in to touch the other ones, if only to very well prove that he knew their names.

"Augusta," Tugger said, gently petting the brown tabby. "I'll bet you anything she'll be Munkustrap's favorite niece; she has his coat markings."

"She really does," Mistoffelees said. He cheekily added, "Good thing you never asked me again if all the kittens were yours."

Tugger gave his mate a light cuff on the arm before turning his attention to the final kitten. His hand hovered over her, as though she were made of fragile glass. She was definitely the runt and looked the smallest next to her siblings, cuddling close to her nearest sister for warmth. "Mandragora," Tugger said softly. "She's so… tiny."

"She'll grow strong," Mistoffelees said quietly. "Something tells me she'll be her father's daughter."

"Everlasting Cat, I hope not," Tugger shook his head. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life chasing toms away from her."

"Maybe she'll like queens instead."

Tugger looked horrified. "Oh no, I'm not dealing with that sort of competition. She'd better have your disposition."

"Oh?" Mistoffelees asked mischievously. "And what sort of disposition would that be?"

"Quiet, aloof…" He stretched out a bit, mindful of Josephine on the blanket next to him, and lightly licked at Mistoffelees' face. "… and very cheeky."

A demanding mewl shattered the silence. This one came from the hat, and both Tugger and Mistoffelees simultaneously peered inside to see Aloysius wriggling about and crying. With a sigh, Mistoffelees reached into the hat to pluck him out before his mews woke up his siblings.

"He's probably hungry now," Mistoffelees said. "He sounds like you when you haven't eaten in a while."

He placed Aloysius on his chest and winced as the kitten instinctively nosed through the fur and latched on. He was thankful that his magic had given him this useful accommodation to feed the kittens, though he looked forward to getting back to himself; this was not a sensation he would ever learn to appreciate, especially as Aloysius' tiny claws kneaded at him to help press the milk out.

He noticed, after a few seconds, that Tugger was intently watching the process. Josephine was still asleep and cuddled close to his chest, and one of Tugger's hands was still draped inside the hat, just barely touching Mandragora's fur.

It was a curious sight, but a pleasant one. Just a few months ago, Mistoffelees would have thought himself insane to imagine reaching this point: mated with Tugger, and with a hatful of kittens. He had been cautiously guarded about beginning a matehood with Tugger, willing to see where fate would take them, now pleasantly surprised by the results. It seemed that fate, much like his magic, worked in mysterious ways.

"Tugger," he murmured after a few more moments of scrutiny. "Don't stare."

"Why not? I like watching beautiful things."

Mistoffelees smirked at his mate. "Flirt."


	27. Epilogue

Everlasting Cat," Jezebel sighed good-naturedly. "How do you keep track of them all?"

As he watched the kittens running around in front of Jezebel's den, with Jenny kindly directing a few to sit down in a semi-circle, Mistoffelees had to admit that the last year had been an exercise in chaos, and it was due in no small part to keeping track- as Jezebel put it- of seven growing kittens.

To watch them now, it was astonishing to remember how small and helpless they had seemed as newborns. Just a few short weeks after their birth, they had outgrown their cherished hat and had started tottering around on their small legs, causing both Mistoffelees and Tugger no small amount of panic attacks as they set about exploring first their den, and then the junkyard.

It seemed they had inherited both Tugger's single-minded determination to be contrary, and Mistoffelees' uncanny ability to sneak and squeeze into any hiding place. It had become a common sight in the junkyard for one of them to yell at the kittens to either get down or come out from wherever they'd scampered off to. With the soon-after arrival of Cassandra and Alonzo's two tom-kits, Verismo and Serapis, the junkyard had indeed become overrun by a herd of boisterous young kittens.

Caring for the kittens had been both exhausting and exhilarating, and despite the rather accidental manner in which they had come about, the experience was not something Mistoffelees would have traded for anything. His body, after changing to allow him to naturally give birth to the kittens, had changed back as soon as the kittens no longer needed to nurse. Now back to normal, he and Tugger had been all over each other that night.

Of course, there had been times in the last year when he was ready to tear his fur out and pray to the Everlasting Cat for the little ones to be quiet and still for just a few moments.

The only quiet ones at the moment were Tourmaline, the tuxedo queen, who sat in Mistoffelees' arms; Josephine, the fluffy calico, who stood by Jezebel's legs and glared at her roughhousing siblings; and Mandragora, who was only quiet because Tugger had taken her aside to finish grooming her unruly fur before they left the kittens in Jezebel's care for the night before leaving to attend the Jellicle Ball.

A few paces away, Augusta gave a mighty roar and leapt onto Cyrano's back, determined to bring him to the ground. The brown tabby queen had developed an affinity for playing roughly, and had nearly succeeded in pinning her bigger brother to the ground, until the authoritative Josephine stomped over to them.

"Stop that!" she yelled. Her voice was already bigger than she was. "It's not proper!"

"I'm not sure who taught her that word," Mistoffelees remarked to Jezebel, shaking his head. "But she doesn't seem to think anything is proper. Anyway, are you sure these aren't too many to handle, on top of Cassandra and Alonzo's kittens? Tugger or I can stay behind and help you watch them."

"Not Tugger," the older tom said, spitting out a white fluff of fur from Mandragora's mane. The small black-and-white kitten whined and squirmed restlessly in his lap.

Cappella and Aloysius sat a clear distance away from the small wrestling match; both had become inseparable, always playing, huddling, or making grand plans with one another. Both now sat with Verismo and Serapis in front of Jenny, giggling kittenishly as the old queen told them an animated story. Verismo, a sleek brown tom-kit, kept shyly glancing in Mistoffelees' direction between giggles.

"Oh please, my dears, I'm quite equipped to handle a few kittens for one night," Jezebel airily said. After a quick moment of scrutinizing her charges, her voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't suppose any of your little ones have figured out magic yet, have they?"

"Er- not that we know of."

Jezebel nodded, relieved. It was probably wiser, Mistoffelees mused, to not mention how Cappella had levitated her favourite toy ball last week.

"No! Let me go! Help!" Mandragora cried, evidently tired of Tugger's efforts to groom her mane. She'd begun squirming in his arms with renewed energy and mewling dramatically.

"Sit still, Mandra," Tugger grumbled. "Your fur's a mess. You look like a pollicle."

"You look like a pollicle!"

"She definitely has her father's wit," Jezebel smirked. "I can't believe he lets her talk to him like that."

"You have no idea," Mistoffelees sighed, re-adjusting his hold on Tourmaline. "Tugger would let her get away with murder."

Tugger finally abandoned his efforts and released Mandragora; the small kitten made a desperate bid for freedom by running over to where her siblings and friends sat, cuddling up to Cappella. Once more, Verismo peeked out from the group to look in Mistoffelees' direction, trying to catch the eye of the kitten in his arms.

"That kitten has no sense of style," Tugger huffed, walking up to Jezebel and his mate.

"Look, Tourma," Mistoffelees said to the kitten still huddled in his arms. "I think Verismo wants you to go sit with him. Why don't you go join him?"

The small brown tom-kit had caught Tourmaline's eye some time ago; of course, they were both young kittens, much too small to think of anything to do with mating until at least next year's Jellicle Ball, but it was sweet to watch their mutual kittenhood crush.

"I guess so," Tourmaline said shyly. "You and daddy won't forget us here, right?"

"Of course not," Mistoffelees said, giving the small queen a light nudge with his nose. "Remember how we discussed it? We're just going to the Jellicle Ball, and Jezebel's going to take good care of you until we come get you after the sun rises. Now why don't you go sit with the others?"

Tourmaline nodded quietly. Mistoffelees set her to the ground and watched her totter towards the group, bumping Aloysius out of the way so she could sit next to her friend.

"I suppose that's it, then," Mistoffelees said. "Jezebel, thank you for—Augusta! What have I told you about pulling your sister's tail?"

"I wasn't!" Augusta pouted, though she still held the white-and-orange tip of Josephine's tail in her little hand.

"Everlasting, kittens, behave for Jezebel tonight, all right?" Tugger said, giving the wide-eyed kittens a stern look.

"Run along and sit with the others," Jezebel instructed. "I've got some wonderful new toy mice to show you in a moment."

Cyrano, Augusta and Josephine eagerly scampered off to sit with the rest of the kittens. With a soft titter, Jenny rose up and petted their heads as they ran past her.

Mistoffelees shook his head. "As I was trying to say, Jezebel, thank you for watching the kittens this year. I'm sorry you'll miss the Jellicle Ball."

"Oh, think nothing of it," Jezebel said. "There will be plenty more Balls for me, and someone needs to watch these sweet dears." She gave Mistoffelees a teasing jab to the ribs and cocked her head in Tugger's direction. "Are you two planning on trying for a second litter tonight? I'm quite certain I'm feeling magic in the air again this year."

"You know," Tugger said with a triumphant smile. "This will be our first full Jellicle Ball as mates. We'll have a lot of catching up to do at the mating dance."

"Oh really?" Mistoffelees said, giving his mate a pointed look. "Are you ready to end up with another seven kittens?"

"I'll take my chances."

Jenny and Jezebel both tittered softly at his side, and it certainly didn't help when Tugger wrapped an arm around his waist and playfully growled.

"Victoria and Plato are dancing their union this year," Mistoffelees said, putting a hand to his mate's chest to push him away. "I surely wouldn't want to take any attention away from them."

"You're my mate," Tugger purred. "You'll always get attention now."

Mistoffelees rolled his eyes. "No mating dance. Everlasting knows you could use the break."

"Don't worry," Jenny interjected, patting Tugger on the arm. "I'll make sure Tugger dear stays close to me at the mating dance."

"You wouldn't dare," Tugger gaped.

"All right, please have this discussion away from the young ones," Jezebel said, shooing the three away from the semi-circle of chattering kittens. "Now go and have fun at the Ball. Jenny, I will expect to hear everything from you and Jelly at the end of the night. And I mean everything."

Jenny nodded happily and led the way. Though Mistoffelees meant to bid the kittens good-bye, they were already preoccupied with giggling and whispering among themselves. Maybe it was best to leave before one or two or three of their litter decided to start being fussy.

He followed Jenny away from Jezebel's den, batting away Tugger's tail as it mischievously wound its way around his thighs.

"Do you suppose you'll feel exhilarated again after the Ball this year?" Tugger whispered to his mate.

"I doubt it," Mistoffelees said. "Last year was unusual."

"You know what they say; unusual things always happen at the Jellicle Ball."

Before Mistoffelees could protest in any way, Tugger wrapped a loving arm around his shoulders, and together they walked to rejoin the group of Jellicles with their kittens safely cared for behind them.

Jezebel watched them leave with a small smile on her face, until a small tug to her leg fur made her look down.

"Jezebel?" Mandragora asked. "What's a mating dance?"

The old queen shook her head. "Ask your father."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we're done! I'll soon start posting the next fic in the series, "During the Ball". If you simply can't wait, you can find it on FF.net. But c'mon, isn't it more fun to watch it unfold here, chapter by chapter?


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